#other parts like the color shoes and gloves are just objectively good changes because they add visibilty to a character who was mostly

[ragtimeunder]

Impromptu Tenna Redesign (Im not changing their design for DR!NN but if I ever take the chance to redo it all in like a game or something this is what you're getting

[maddascanbe-blog]

Beetles, Bees, and Butterflies designs! I have been sitting on these design for- almost a month!

All of the designs went through changes over time, Izuku looks pretty significantly different from how I first drew him, you'll see that in a sec.

Momo's suit was giving me a lot of trouble until I actually designed a kwami swap between these three for fun, and like the concepts in the other design enough to carry them over. The way her quirk is still able to function is that all of the black parts of her suit will let her create whatever she needs, and there is a panel on her back that can open up like a Ladybug's elytra to give her full access to her back. While the red parts are as invincible as normal miraculous armor.

Her visor can bring up the information she needs to make specific object so she doesn't have to commit to memorizing so much, and the Yoyo, on her right wrist, can do the same (thank tikki for actually knowing what everything is made of because she made it) Her bug eyes actually blink or narrow when her own do.

Shoto's actually only have minor changes? I knew I wanted to give him the tail coat (because I love giving the bee's tailcoats) but I had to fight with his color scheme to make it not look cluttered. Hence why I gave him a hood, makes it easier to draw when you can't see his hair.

Izuku is always so hard to draw for, I had to fight his hair a bit here but I think it looks okay? I tried to invoke the stripes/lines of his suits in cannon as well as All Might's since Izuku is subconsciously still trying to mimic him. Which eventually took the form of his vest's seams looking like a butterfly. I kept his knee and elbow pads, good for crash landings. And his boots are designs similar to his red tennis shoes, because I headcanon Izuku's entire shoe selection is literally just multiple pairs of the same shoe.

The shape of hsi gloves were fun too- Here's his early design with his wings. The wings still look like this in story!

And an assorted page of things I wanted to commit designs wise (the weapons) to and doodles-

Shoto doesn't have a transformation pose because he's not flashy like that-

[sonkitty]

The Sideburns Scheme Post #56

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 4, The Hitchhiker, broken

...

Sideburns Check

The above image is slightly brightened.

The sideburns are long. I think the long sideburns are the "human" reading during the minisode as a reversal compared to the present day.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

With his hat finally off, Crowley has a visible more saturated red streak of hair. I'll go over my theories about that in the Story Commentary.

...

Hairstyle Changes

The sideburns are still long, but now the hat is finally off.

When Crowley faces and addresses Mrs. H, his hair looks more red compared to when he turns around to look at Aziraphale. Then his hair looks darker, and the red in the streak is more subdued.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Crowley opens the case of broken bottles. Only one thumb is shown to touch it, but he has all five digits visible with his right hand to indicate his previous touch. So, my own guess would be that he's aiming to get credit for the touch by having his hand shown in such a way.

Mrs. H. has two questions with, "Broken? All of them?"

That could give them a standard set to start the scene.

Mr. H. has two more questions and Crowley uses her name, "Mrs. H."

While these two are interacting, Aziraphale does have a visible touch with his hat, and there is someone known to be playing the piano, even if they are only shown from behind.

Mrs. H. repeats her name back to Crowley. She touches her own purse and rubs her gloved hands together. She mentions the number, "40". She continues on for a bit before the piano interrupts her swearing.

While she was talking, a Rule of Three was met with three of the girls entering and passing through the ongoing conversation.

Aziraphale takes out a white handkerchief when offering to help Crowley.

...

For paying attention to the pockets...

In my attempts to figure out anything, I noticed two cuts where there's a black top hat on a table on the stage behind Mrs. H. with what's probably a stuffed rabbit. Presumably, it has something to do with the magician. In the other cuts, the hat and stuffed rabbit are not there.

The girls who pass through, specifically pass through between Aziraphale and Crowley, which draws attention to them being on their "correct" sides for most of the scene.

...

(For reference: The Rainbow Connection Part 4: The Door Trick and The Door Catch)

I said this minisode had clues for The Door Catch, so let's look for clues about The Door Catch.

One of the most important elements in The Door Catch is that somehow, some way, the shadows of the green leaves on the back of Aziraphale's coat are allowed to be the Green of the maintained Rainbow Connection.

While neither Aziraphale nor Crowley sit during this scene, the piano player is visually pocketed between them, and that piano player has her back to us, the viewer.

A really tricky and difficult mechanic in the Rainbow Connection is from non-rainbow-colored shades: black, white, brown, and gray.

I think there is a findable poem that goes:

Black blocks.

Brown borrows.

Gray shades.

White keeps.

The "gray" is spelled as "grey" in the official subtitles, so I'm just using the spelling I'm more familiar with.

When I was drafting this part into the relevant post, it occurred to me check that this minisode might have a clue for each one. The clue for "gray" is the most obvious one, later, but I wanted to see if others could be found.

Black and white together seem to do something like a trap.

The piano player is wearing all black with, presumably, a black dress and black shoes. I'm mainly noticing it's a match for white because this scene initiates the clue for White.

Aziraphale pulls out a white handkerchief and waves it around. This handkerchief will be used again later during the actual Bullet Catch act.

...

Story Commentary

Who broke the bottles? Was it the Metatron messing with the story because he's got something against whiskey? Or was it Aziraphale's wishful thinking so he could have an excuse to help out Crowley? Or is it just part of the written story from one or both of them with the clues within the games?

Well, my guess would be the last one of those since it matches with my overall theory, but the other theories are good too.

Now about that more saturated red streak of hair...

One of the theories I have on it, here, is that this 1941 minisode is experiencing something like a "bleed-through" effect from the present day. It's closer in time than the other minisodes. So, the streak is there as part of this "bleed-through" effect. Season 1 established that Adam could retroactively change reality. Someone or something could be doing that in this story.

Another theory is that the streak is there because of either Crowley performing his miracle for the bomb, the books, or both, or Aziraphale performing his "real miracle" to make sure he and Crowley survive the bomb.

I had a present day theory that the streak is an after-effect of a Big Miracle that Crowley performed, but things don't quite match up with that theory because of various parts in the story where it disappears and my not finding any good guidance or reason for why it would disappear since I don't know how many drafts the story has and how it fits.

Plus, there are clues the streak is actually a result of the lightning...somehow. That doesn't fit either, but I'm generally suspicious of the camera work when Crowley first shoots the lightning out.

Mrs. H. has dealt with Crowley and makes no comment on that streak, but humans generally don't comment on Crowley's appearance as it is. If she does actually see it, and has seen it, then that would put the "bleed-through" effect as the more likely theory.

So, those are just ideas I'm throwing around. I'm more uncertain on them compared to stuff like the Threshold Tricks, the supernatural zone made with help from the sideburns, and the connection Aziraphale and Crowley make through borrowing each other's homes.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

[pemfrost]

Yo yo yo from your bingo card, Body Swap for Dimiclaude (DimitrixClaude)

*folds arms behind her back and scuffs her shoe on the ground* So, this became a whole… thing.

Idk what happened. It's too long for me to try and post to Tumblr, so the first bit is here and the full 20k is on ao3 <3

Dimitri did not hate every aspect of being King, which surprised him at first. Going from war and death to meetings and negotiations was a difficult transition, one he sometimes still struggled with. He would admit as such openly to his close friends that the first few months after his coronation had been challenging, and he still sometimes questioned if he was truly the correct choice to lead a unified Fodland. But, he didn't hate it, not all of it. 

He actively worked to change people's lives for the better, officially pardoned the people of Duscur, and welcomed negotiations with the people from Sreng. Still, he hated the meetings required for such good things to happen. Hated the stuffy rooms filled with nobles who had no care for how their actions would affect the common people, hated how they each had their own agenda which often contradicted the very thing Dimitri was trying to achieve. 

But most of all, he hated how lonely his life had become. 

After Professor Byleth helped guide him back from the edge of his own darkness, he'd been surrounded by friends and allies. During the war there was always someone nearby ready to talk, or listen, or spar. Now, his friends were scattered across the country, and Dimitri couldn’t summon them from their important work just because he wanted to have dinner with a friend instead of eating alone again. 

Thankfully, Dedue and Ingrid were often in Fhridad as part of their own projects and travels. Though, they barely had time to spare for personal time with their King. Dedue always ensured they caught up over dinner at least once when he visited, and they wrote to each other often.

And, of course, where would he be without his closest advisors? Sylvain and Felix were his constants after the war, by his side for important meetings and always available to discuss strategy. But, they each had their own lives to attend. Felix had Annette, and Sylvain…. Dimitri didn't want to know what Sylvain got up to. 

He looked forward to seeing them, but wished there was time for strictly social visits. As it stood, he hadn't seen many of them in months. When he announced a trade summit with Almyra, he'd anticipated pushback from even those he counted as close allies. Yet, they supported his vision nonetheless They would all arrive soon to offer their support and opinions on his negotiations with Almyra. He wished it would be a social visit, but he would accept what little he could. 

The Almyran King arrived mere hours ago, and the castle was abuzz with last minute preparations for the trade negotiations. Dimitri took advantage of his staff being distracted to roam the castle, trying to pace the anxiety out of his system. 

Of course, he couldn't do so in peace. 

"Your Majesty, this is a terrible idea. I again urge you to-" 

Dimitri cut off the noble with a curt wave of his gloved hand. Lord Barelow was the most outspoken of the city's nobles, arguing his case whenever an opposition presented itself. Now he was resorting to cornering Dimitri in the hallways without a care of who would overhear. 

"I hope you will be courteous to our guests while they are here. Save your objections for tomorrow's meeting." His patience was waning before they'd even begun. 

The noble sulked off down the hallway, no doubt going off to devise another way to ruin Dimitri's mood. 

"Glad I'm not the only one getting pushback," a familiar voice said from the shadows of the thick curtains adorning a window. 

"Claude," Dimitri whirled around. The King of Almyra smirked back at him, looking incredibly lively despite the long journey he just undertook. No, not Claude, he reminded himself. "Er, King Khalid."

"Oh please, don't you get all formal with me, too." He was dressed down, a simple outfit instead of what one would expect a foriegn king to wear, no doubt intended to blend in. Still his clothes were ornate and sported the colors of Almyra, reminding Dimitri once again of how much had changed since they were in school. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Dimitri nodded, "I apologize if I have offended you. Is there a reason you are wandering the hallways of the castle alone? You must be exhausted from your trip, if you need something, I have staff who-"

Claude waved his hand, "No, no. I just needed to stretch my legs. I wasn't expecting to run into you, rumor has it you're always in your office."

Despite himself, Dimitri's lips ticked upward. "Or in a council meeting. I am sure your life has become similar."

"In a way, yeah." Claude crossed his arms and leaned against the stone wall, not hiding his careful appraisal of Dimitri. For a moment his eyes softened, "You look good. Peace suits you."

Keep reading:

[restlessfandoming]

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 4) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

the president and the troublemaker (part 4)

Lumine narrowed her eyes at Kaeya. “What does this have to do with fighting?” she asked as she pulled at the frills and lace of the dress her manager had forced her to wear. The bright pink garment made her look like some fairytale princess on her way to meet the nearest unicorn. 

“Nothing,” Kaeya responded, the shutter of his camera clicking as he took her picture. “This is for publicity.”

“I need publicity?” 

“Well, no one is going to fight you if they don’t know who you are,” Kaeya explained. “I also think we can catch people off guard if we present you like this.” 

“She does look very...docile right now,” Aether noted from his perch on a pile of gym mats. They were currently in the back of Zapolyarny Palace; Lumine was posed against a white sheet for a simple backdrop to their photoshoot.

“Exactly.” Kaeya nodded. “People are going to think she’s easy prey to beat for some cash. Until she hits them where it hurts.” 

“And what does Childe think of this?” Lumine asked. 

“Tartaglia is in charge of your skills as a fighter. I’m in charge of your image as a fighter.” 

“Is that really that important?” 

Kaeya smiled. “Even as a fighter, you’re still an entertainer. The more likeable you are, the more you put yourself out there, the more sponsors you’ll get—which means more money for you.” 

“And you’re sure that her identity isn’t going to be revealed if we get too much in the spotlight?” Aether asked, pursing his lips. 

“We’re going to keep it contained within Snezhnaya, and as we’ve talked about, your little school friends don’t venture this way.” 

Lumine sighed. “Fine; let’s get this over with.” She gave a stiff smile. 

Kaeya brought the camera down, his face cast in disappointment. “This is part of the job, Lumine. You need to play the part. People can tell from a mile away if you’re not exactly passionate about this.” 

Her face dropped, and she yet again pulled at the dress. “I just don’t feel comfortable in this.”

It was Kaeya’s turn to sigh. “Let’s just call it a day then.” He gave the dress a glance-over. “You’re right, this doesn’t exactly fit you.” 

“It’s not really her color,” Aether agreed. 

“You’re right about that, Aether.” The captain put his hand over his chin, pondering. “But what color fits Lumine best?” 

“I’m fine with any color. Can’t we just use the pictures you’ve already taken?” 

Kaeya was already packing away his camera. “You look like a dead fish strung up on display in a seafood market; no one is going to want to sponsor that.” 

“Can’t we just win people over with my skills?”

“Do you think sponsors would rather back a good fighter who is personable, or a good fighter who seems to hate everything around them?” 

The blonde crossed her arms. “I guess personable,” she grumbled. 

“Good job,” her manager acknowledged, his voice almost tipping into sarcasm. “So just give it some thought as to what color you would rather your dress to be, and I’ll have my seamstress recreate a dress for you, okay?”

Kaeya walked off, and Lumine flopped down on the mats next to Aether. She let out a frustrated groan. “Why does this have to be so hard? I used to just show up and punch people, and now I’m doing photoshoots?” 

Aether laughed, then patted her shoulder. “Just something else to study, right?” he said jokingly. 

Lumine sat up slightly. Sure, her brother was joking, but studying was something she was good at. Later, as she changed out of the wretched dress, she compiled a list of how to start her research. 

First, maybe some fashion magazines...Then...

* * *

Unfortunately, her student council duties and school work came first, and Lumine wasn’t able to swing by her local library to pick up some magazines for her research. 

“You okay, Lumi?” Amber, the student council secretary and Lumine’s friend, asked. 

The blonde gave her a small smile. “Yeah, I’m just thinking about work.” 

Amber perked up. “Oh, where do you work? Maybe I can help!”

...Shit. “Oh, uhm, just at a local restaurant…,” she lied. Please believe me, please believe me.

“Ah, I see,” the brunette said, nodding. “Customers got you down?”

“Uh, no actually. Management is kind of asking a lot of me. If that makes sense,” Lumine found herself saying. “Like expecting me to wear some stupid costume and...act a certain way that isn’t really true to who I am.” 

“Hmm,” the secretary hummed. “I totally get that. It’s always hard when people try to force you to be something you’re not.” Her face split in a cheeky grin. “But you are one of the most authentic people I know! And hardworking! I know that whatever you do, you’re going to do your best and still be the great president we all know and love!” 

Lumine felt her heart warm. “Thank you, Amber,” she said softly. 

Amber saluted. “Anytime, Pres!” 

Just then, a group of boys passed by the open door of the student council room, all excitedly chattering and gathering around something. 

“Dude, she’s so hot!” the two council members heard them exclaim. “Are there any nudes in here?” 

Lumine’s soft expression immediately faded, and she stood up from her desk. “That sounds like something I have to take a look at.” 

She stepped into the hallway, and the boys were at the end, still crowded around their object. She marched up to the group, immediately identifying their object as a magazine of swimsuit models.

“Inappropriate magazines are banned in school,” Lumine announced as she snatched it from one of the boy’s hands. All the boys let out various shrieks, then ran out of the hallway. When she walked back into the council room, Amber was gone with a note saying she had to go grab paperwork from the main office. 

Lumine sat back down at her desk, setting the magazine off to the side as she tried going back to her homework. She found herself glazing at the magazine more than she wanted to admit. 

She glanced around the room, slowly picking up the magazine, and peeling it open. She stared intently at the way the models held themselves in the pictures—their postures, their facial expressions—and tried to imagine herself in their shoes. 

“I didn’t know you were into that kind of stuff, Pres.”

Lumine nearly jumped a foot out of her seat. Childe was bent over her shoulder, looking down at the magazine with her. 

She slammed it closed. “Childe, do you ever go to class? Like at all?” 

“Of course I do,” he said, sitting on the edge of her desk. “I just leave when I get bored.” 

She sighed. “Do I have to write you up for skipping class?” 

He raised a brow, then picked the magazine off her desk. “Do I have to write you up for being in possession of this?”

Lumine ripped it from his hands. “It’s not what it looks like,” she tried to reason, her cheeks flooding with warmth. “I’m just researching. For Kaeya.” 

“For Kaeya? Does this have something to do with why he asked me what color fits you best?” 

“He asked you that?” Lumine rubbed her forehead. “Just tell him any color is fine.” 

“Why’s Kaeya got you doing all this anyways?” 

“Publicity, promotion, whatever you want to call it,” she explained. “Making me ‘personable.’”

“He doesn’t think you’re personable?”

“Apparently. He basically stuffed me in a frilly dress and told me to ‘smile for the camera.’” She turned to him. “You don’t do any of this stuff?” 

“My managers in the past tried to make me do it.” He shrugged. “I told them that if they made me do it, I’d just beat them up.” 

“Geez, Childe.” Lumine rested her head on her hand. “I’m not going to threaten Kaeya. I know he means well.” She shook her head. “I guess it’s just something I’ve got to do.” 

“I’ve had plenty of colleagues in the industry go through stuff like this though. Maybe I could come to the next photoshoot and help you with Kaeya?” he offered. 

“I appreciate the help,” Lumine said. “But this is my image, isn’t it? I think it’s something I’ve got to do on my own.” 

A small smile from Childe. “You’re very stubborn, you know that right?” 

“Is that bad? I like going my own way.”

“No, not at all.” He leaned back, eyes locking with hers. “I think it’s quite strong of you actually.” 

Lumine swore her heart had skipped a beat. “Ah, th-thanks, Childe, I guess.” She quickly stood up, packing her stuff up. “Well, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.” 

She rushed out of the room before Childe could say anything else. She brought her hand to her forehead, searching for signs of a fever. 

Why did my body do that just now?

* * * 

“Wow, Kaeya, I love this dress,” Lumine said genuinely, as she turned around in her new dress. 

It was a white dress, on the shorter side, the length going from high to low, with gold—almost armor-like—embellishments sewn in. The collar was a scarf that connected to the top of the bodice with two crossing straps, and the outfit was further accessorized with matching gold and white thigh high boots and long gloves. It fit comfortably, so comfortably that Lumine was confident she could actually fight in it. 

Kaeya nodded. “It fits you like a glove.”

“Aether, did you tell Kaeya to go with this look?” 

Her brother shook his head. “I really didn’t have any good ideas, so I didn’t suggest anything.” 

Lumine furrowed her brows. “Then who—”

“Looks like I was right—white really is your color,” Childe said, walking up to the trio.

“White?” Aether asked, his brows furrowed. “Like innocence?”

Lumine scoffed. “I’m not exactly ‘innocent.’ I mean, I punch people for a living.” 

Childe chuckled. “It’s ‘white’ because you don’t let others influence you. You are perfectly strong and hardworking all on your own.”

Lumine felt her face warm. Kaeya smiled. “Perfect,” he said. “I like the symbolism.”

“I must say, the piece turned out way better than expected,” Childe commented, his eyes roaming over Lumine. 

Again, her heart felt like it had stuttered for a second. 

“So, are we taking these photos or not?” she asked quickly. “The sooner we get these out, the sooner I can schedule matches, right?” 

“Okay, okay,” Kaeya said, unpacking his camera equipment. 

Soon enough, the backdrop and lighting equipment was set up again, and Aether and Childe sat in the corner while Kaeya instructed Lumine where to go and what to do. Aether had his nose in a book (avoiding conversation with Childe) while the orange-haired troublemaker just sat and watched. 

Lumine had been fine doing this ridiculous task in front of just Kaeya and Aether, but now that Childe was here, she was hyper-aware of his eyes on her, feeling more awkward than before, despite the better change in clothing. 

“Lumine, the dress does look much better, but you still look super stiff,” Kaeya commented. “Try to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” she said through gritted teeth. 

Childe laughed from the corner. “That’s what you call relaxed? You look like you’re about to pop a blood vessel.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” she snipped. 

A smirk. “Sure.” 

He sauntered up to the front of the camera, and Lumine stepped out of the way. 

“Wow, I get the honor of being your first official photographer?” Kaeya joked. 

“If Lumine demands it, I must,” Childe joked back. 

Kaeya started instructing Childe on what to do. To everyone’s surprise, Childe followed the instructions perfectly. 

Each pose struck, each expression made, Lumine could see coming straight out of a magazine. He was actually doing it, and doing it way better than Lumine had. Her muscles twitched at her failure—Can I really not do something as simple as this?

“See? Easy enough,” Childe said, smiling. “Are you really going to let me show you up at your own photoshoot?” 

“No,” she replied pointedly. She walked back to her place, eyes narrowing at Childe, silently telling him to get out of her space. 

Instead, he pressed into her space more. “Let’s try some things.” His hands were then on her arms, pulling them into specific angles. “Maybe if you tried posing like this…”

The embarrassment and frustration bubbled in her throat, and before she could even think about it, she yanked her body away from him. “Maybe it would be better if you left,” she snapped at him, her tone so poisonous that she swore her tongue tasted bitter afterwards. 

The room was absolutely silent. Kaeya and Aether’s eyes flickered between Lumine and Childe.

Childe stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Sorry. Seems like you’re in a bad mood today,” he said, walking away. “I’ll just leave then.” 

The anger in Lumine’s body quickly dissipated upon seeing Childe’s face—the cheerful glimmer in his eyes gone. He was just trying to help. 

“W-wait,” she said quietly.

Childe stopped, turning her way. 

Her eyes were cast downwards. “Ch-Childe, please help me.” 

Silence filled the room once more. 

CLICK!

The camera flashed, blinding everyone for a split second.

“That was the one,” Kaeya said. “A nice, genuine photo of you.” 

Both Lumine and Childe looked at Kaeya, a bit taken aback, then looked at each other. Lumine immediately averted her gaze back to the floor. After a second, she felt someone’s hand patting her head. 

“Looks like you didn’t even need my help,” Childe said, looking down at her. 

Secretly comforted by his touch, Lumine crossed her arms, feigning displeasure at his head pat. “But you did help,” she mumbled. “In a way.” 

BAM! 

Everyone turned to Aether in the corner. His hands were clasped tightly on his book, after he had slammed it closed. 

“Childe,” Aether said with a forced smile. “She’s not your pet, so let’s take your hands off, okay?” 

Childe pulled his hand back. “Oops,” he whispered to only Lumine. “Don’t want to get in bad favor with your brother, now do I?” 

“You’re already in bad favor with him,” Lumine whispered back, walking away from him and joining her brother. She glanced back, amused by his confused expression. 

“Sis,” Aether murmured once she was close enough. “Look, I’m glad he’s helping you with your job, but don’t forget that Childe is quite literally a delinquent at our school and has given you so many problems. Don’t get too involved with him.” 

“It’s okay, Aether, I don’t plan on ‘getting involved’ with him,” Lumine responded. 

Aether looked at her, and she could tell he didn’t believe her. 

...Why doesn’t he believe me? 

* * *

[part 5]

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 13

Thomas X Reader

Word Count: 1641

Summary: Y/N is determined to get a job and Thomas is going to tag along whether she wants him to or not.

by @adventuresintooblivion

The next morning preceded much the same of Thomas leading Y/N downstairs only to have her slip away. This time however, she only made it down a couple blocks before she was approached by a rumbling noise. Thomas’ care suddenly stopped beside her, the owner casting her a cheeky grin as he leaned over to shove open the door.

“You plan on walking all across Birmingham?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “That was the plan.”

Thomas patted the seat beside him. “Having you disappear on me two days in a row? We can’t have that now can we?”

Gingerly, Y/N crawled into the car. She couldn’t quite hide the sheer awe on her face as she marveled at the interior. 

“Never been in a car before?” Thomas ducked his head down to hide the fact that his grin was only widening. The vehicle was one of the few objects he actually took pride in.

“No.” Y/N shook her head. “The Old Man was stingy with his. Said walking around like the common man built character, you know after he drove his a mere block away to make a point.”

Thomas tightened his grip on the wheel, “So, where to?”

She began twisting the thumb of her gloved hand, “I’m not sure. I was going to go out and look for work but last time I did this all the dance halls worth a damn wanted ten bloody pages of recommendations and work history. Can you believe that? I’m in my twenties. I barely have one and that’s if I could get a hold of everyone.”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel a moment before putting the car into gear. “I’ve got a few ideas. Though, I could just pay you for-”

“No. We’ve talked about this several times. My sole income will not be playing at the Garrison.” 

Thomas shrugged as the automobile ambled down the narrow streets. The dirt slowly gave way to cobblestones as they entered the city proper and with the dirt followed the crowds of factory workers. Now they were surrounded by other cars and carriages made of stained mahogany.

While Y/N had spent most of her life in Birmingham, coming to this side of town was still an adventure. Here shops opened and closed with the fashions, not because of economic strife. What had been a macron shop only two months prior now housed milliners. It wasn’t until they were parking that Y/N realized where they were.

“Isn’t this the place where I played the first night?”

Thomas nodded, “Honestly, I’m surprised they didn’t request you again.”

She grumbled, “I think it might’ve had something to do with that little scene you caused.”

“Really?” he paused beside the door leading inside.

Y/N shrugged, “Even on this side of town ‘Thomas Shelby’ still holds quite the reputation. But I think it’d probably be best if you stayed out here.”

Thomas clutched his breast in mock horror, “You honestly think I’d do such a thing as to put your career in jeopardy?”

“You’ve sacrificed more for less.”

“When?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Y/N glared at him. “Maybe that brandy shipment I’d been working on for three months.”

Thomas chuckled, “That was almost four years ago.”

Y/N jabbed her finger at his chest, “It would’ve paid enough to get the whole company brand new shoes! And you showed my best hiding spot to Hopper, so you could get your cigarettes.”

“Fine. I’ll wait in the car.” He held his hands up in mock surrender.

A few moments later Y/N strode into the restaurant, Pearlescent, to find the host bent over a pile of paperwork. She cleared her throat to get his attention, causing him to jump.

“I...I’m sorry Madame but we aren’t open yet. We will begin service at 3PM.” he stuttered as he stood. The words left his lips were rehearsed and stale.

Y/N bowed her head, “Hello, I believe we met a couple months ago. I was one of the entertainers for the VIP lounge.”

The Host’s brow furrowed for a moment before realization dawned on him, “The girl who is friends with a Shelby. I thought I told you to never come back.”

“You did, but I figured it was a good time to make the rounds again. In fact, I think I would like to work here again.”

He laughed in her face, “Why on earth would I permit that?”

She grinned, “Well, as you can see, I’m currently standing in front of you alone. It’s been a couple months so your patrons would’ve forgotten my face, even if the incident didn’t quite leave their memory. My friend, The Shelby, really wanted to come inside with me. He actually gave me a ride here.”

“Are you threatening me, Miss?” The Host narrowed his eyes.

“Oh no.” Y/N shook her head. “I’m just letting you know that this particular Shelby will actually listen to me if I ask him to wait outside. Or come in.”

The Host paused for a long moment, “What exactly were you hoping for?”

Y/N grinned, “Three nights a week. I can play most instruments and I can sing. I expect fair pay, though I’m willing to negotiate if a free meal is included on the nights I work.”

He let out a deep sigh before gesturing towards a door on the back wall, “Come to my office and we can debate particulars.”

〜

Thomas lay across his seat staring up at the ceiling of his car. He tugged on the hem of his coat, preventing more of the cold air from creeping in. It wasn’t until he’d sat back up that he noticed a nearby tea shop. He usually wasn’t much of a tea lover but in weather like this he could definitely make an exception.

A bell rang to announce his arrival. This shop was much nicer than anywhere he frequented. Bright colors combated the dreariness of the overcast sky. The thick omnipresent blanket held at bay by floor to ceiling windows. 

A small counter was set farther inside away from the cluster of tables that dominated most of the floor. Their walls were lined with shelves, displaying dried bags of loose leaf tea all ornately decorated. Behind the counter stood a stout woman, with deep lines carved into her cheeks from smiling.

“Welcome to Brandy’s and Bobbins, what can I interest you in, my dear?” Something about the woman’s voice reminded Thomas of honey, soothing and sweet.

Reflexively, Thomas rubbed his hands together. “Dunno. Don’t typically fancy a place like this.”

She smiled knowingly, “But it’s a cold day outside and we could all use a cuppa to remind us that the world is right again.” She set about busying herself with finding the right mixture. Glancing at labels and barely reading them before shuffling on to the next.

“So what’s your typical drink? Whiskey?”

Thomas blinked, not exactly sure what alcohol had to do with tea, “Rum mostly. Champagne for special occasions.”

She nodded, “And your lady friend.”

He could feel heat rising in his cheeks as he answered, “She’s more of a whiskey kind of girl.”

The woman beamed at him in the reflective surface of a rather large kettle, “I know just what to make you.”

Thomas raised his eyebrow but didn’t question the woman further. Instead he strode around the shop. Everything seemed a little too delicate for him to touch without crumpling even as his fingers brushed over fine metalwork. It wasn’t until there was a faint click on the counter that he returned his gaze to the front of the room. Two cups of tea steamed cheerily, one what seemed to be in disposable paper and the other in classic porcelain.

“Is… that paper?” Thomas asked.

She nodded, “Some mad lad in the Americas came up with it not too long ago. It’s expensive to get a hold of them but everyone loves them.”

Thomas pulled out his wallet and began to pay, “Have some opinionated customers?”

“Oh, you have no idea. We get all sorts in here from parliament members to textile merchants from Belgium of all places. Hell, we even get that new Inspector in here almost every day. I have to buy these almost exclusively for him.”

Thomas paused a moment while paying, “The copper?”

She nodded as she totaled everything up and made change, the smile never leaving her face. “Oh yes. He always asks for this one tea that’s always been popular with irish folks.”

He thanked her for the tea before sitting and drinking his own. After taking his first sip, he had to admit it was definitely one of the better ones he’s had. With a little sugar he might even go so far to say it was almost perfect. It wasn’t until he caught the look of absolute glee on the older woman’s face that it dawned on him that she actually loved what she did.

When he was done he mumbled his thanks and returned to the car with the paper cup held gingerly between his hands. As if seemingly by magic, Y/N appeared out of the Pearlescent as he stepped onto the curb.

“Job achieved?”

Y/N was practically bouncing with excitement, “Job achieved.” 

They both climbed into the car before Thomas remembered what he was holding. “Here.”

Her hands wrapped around the cup, confusion turning to bliss as the warmth seeped into her hands. “This is amazing. What is this?”

“Tea. In a paper cup.” Thomas answered as he merged back into traffic.

Her brow furrowed, “How on earth?”

“Don’t ask me. As far as I’m concerned it might as well be witchcraft.”

“Says the man that says he’s part Gypsy.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “Romani.”

[alison-anonymous]

flawsome bandits pt. 21 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Deceptions

Part 21! Only 3 more chapters left, my darlings! I hope you enjoy! This is also being uploaded to Wattpad as well, if any of you are interested. Love you all, darlings!

Warnings - violence (not too bad though), and some angst near the end

♡♡♡

...and smashed it onto the ground.

Robotnik’s mouth dropped open in horror as he watched his creation sink into the ground, singeing the blades of grass beneath Y/n’s tennis shoes until they were no longer recognizable. It even began to eat away at the shards of glass next to it, and Y/n winced.

That could have been her insides.

“YES!” Sonic cried out in victory just before he got punched in the face by Metal Sonic. But at least his girlfriend - or ex girlfriend - was still alive.

“What the hell have you done?!” Robotnik screeched like a banshee, rising up out his seat and gasping in horror at his specialty made poison that was supposed to melt Y/n’s insides and was now instead melting the ground beneath their feet.

You see, the lion’s actual plan had been to deceive Y/n into thinking that he would let her friends go if she came with him. But being the actual VERY HAIRY buttho- I mean intelligent scientist that he is, his actual plan was never to leave her friends alone. He would take Y/n, kill her, then destroy her friends as well so that he has a bunch of weird alien animals to conduct his experiments on. But then he got an amazing idea (not really).

What if he made Y/n kill herself in front of her friends?

God, it was genius! 

Seeing their friend kill herself would definitely put a damper on their strength, as the loss of their friend would be very debilitating. But they forgot one thing.

“I’m not a fucking idiot,” Y/n snarled, her fur beginning to tingle as her powers began to churn. She cracked a smirk. The zebra was back. “I think it’s time that we switch roles, don’t you think?” 

Robotnik furrowed his brows, confused as to what she meant. She took this small window of opportunity, reeled her fist back, and punched him straight in the face.

“I’m not a zebra anymore! I’m a lion, you motherfucker!” 

The impact was enough to send the man falling straight out of his drone and he collapsed onto the ground, a pathetic jumble of limbs and mustache hairs. He let out a groan in pain which soon turned into a snarl, and he quickly noticed that his controller was no longer in his grasp. This was a little bit of an issue because that controller was the one that he could use to power Metal Sonic, supercharge him, and shut him down. While he was distracted, Y/n quickly dove into the drone and snatched up the controller, staring down at the three buttons that blinked before her.

They were all the same color.

Damnit.

“You little bitch, WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?!” Two strong gloved hands wrapped around Y/n’s furry ankles and ripped her out of the drone. She let out a shrill scream as she went airborne momentarily, and thinking quick, she let out a low hum. Her body instantly responded, holding her up into the air so she was in a sort of trance. Shadow let out a low growl from the ground, his ruby irises flaming with heartbroken rage. 

“Because you’re a creep!” She shouted down at him, and slammed her fist onto the first button on the controller. She glanced down at Metal Sonic, who was in the process of trying to kill the actual Sonic, only to find that it didn’t change anything. She grunted and pushed the one on the bottom. 

The robot froze. 

Sonic rolled on the ground and stood up, preparing to run off again as he watched the robot in confusion. The red eyes on the bot grew bold for a moment, and then… turned off. That was the off button. Y/n breathed a sigh of relief and lowered herself onto the ground. Unfortunately, her victory was short lived as Shadow tackled her to the burnt grass.

The icy blue hedgehog let out a shriek as she went collapsing onto the ground from his weight.

“Get off of me, you pervy walrus!” Y/n snarled, immediately trying to shove the dark hedgehog off of her. But he wasn’t ready to let go that easily. He latched his strong arms around her waist, and sent them tumbling onto the ground like a bad gymnastics performance. While they were distracted, Knuckles took this opportunity to slash the binds around Spirit and Tails, freeing them. The duo quickly bounded up, armed and ready to fight, only to find that the bot was already shut off. Sonic quickly sped over to the struggling hedgehogs only to narrowly miss a burning hot laser. He froze, gaze shooting up to meet that of a very pissed off Robotnik.

“What the hell, man?” Sonic snarled, throwing his hands out to the sides in exasperation. Robotnik simply shrugged, hitting some buttons on his gloves and turning the attention of his egg bots towards him, Knuckles, Spirit, and even Tails.

“Are you forgetting that I am being portrayed as the bad guy here? It’s my job to make your life a living hell.” Robotnik rolled his eyes like he was explaining this to a five year old. Sonic had lost most of his sense of humor upon witnessing the love of his life almost kill herself, and he frankly didn’t have much time to even throw in a good natured joke when he was trying to take out a bunch of robots while his friends did the same.

Meanwhile, Y/n had other problems.

Shadow kept trying to yank the remote control out of her hands, presumably to turn back on Metal Sonic so that he could kill them. But she wasn’t having it. 

“Quit groping me!” She snarled between panted breaths as she countered all of his punches and smacks, clutching the remote tightly between her right fingers. She was in a very unfortunate position with him practically straddling her on the ground, eyes full of fire and rage as he tried to get the upper hand. But just as she had managed to land a punch to his face, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye that could prove useful.

Shadow’s gun.

♡♡♡

Spirit’s baseball bat collided with three of Robotnik’s bots, knocking them into the oak tree beside her almost instantaneously. She let out an exhale, but her eyes were already on high alert, searching for any more signs of danger around her. She had lost track of where Y/n had gone after witnessing her almost kill herself, and she was frankly feeling rather light headed. But that wasn’t important right now. The important thing was to get them all out of here safe.

And alive. 

Tails, who was never really one for being on the front line in battle, timidly hid behind her legs while he watched with hearts in his eyes as she took out a bunch of the egg bots. The determination and the fire in her eyes… the way her hair swung about in her ponytail with her motions… She was beautiful. 

Knuckles sidled up next to them after having taken out a bunch of the other bots as well, followed shortly after by the Blue Blur. Sonic let out a frustrated groan as another hoard of bots began to carreen their way towards them, lasers at the ready. Robotnik stood under the cover of his old drone not too far away from them, and it was then that Sonic hatched a plan.

“Guys, if we can get those controller gloves away from him, then maybe we can stop the drones long enough to get Y/n.” Amazing how even in the most dire of circumstances, Sonic’s first instinct was to find a way to make it to his beloved girlfriend.

Ex-girlfriend.

Gotta stop doing that.

Spirit and Knuckles immediately stepped up in front of Sonic and Tails, already beginning the process of punching and smashing the next line of robots. Even Tails was able to prevent some of the bots from getting too close by whacking them with his tails and with random sticks he was able to pick up on the ground. Using their amazing fighting skills as his que, Sonic sped through the darkness the trees gave him before coming to a stop just behind Robotnik. Thankfully, the man had been captivated by the fight as well, his eyes trained steadily on the fight as one hand controlled the bots and the other stroked his unwashed mustache hairs.

Disgusting, Sonic thought bitterly. He would make sure that this man would never harm another person again. 

He slowly took two more steps forward, and the second Robotnik’s glove was within his view, Sonic ripped it off of his hand and slammed it against the ground with a rock. Robotnik let out a choked scream in surprise, cursing himself for being off his game and blaming it on Y/n’s hate filled punch, he turned only to hear the static sound of his precious controller being destroyed.

“NO!” He screeched like a little girl, not knowing how to defend himself in the absence of his beautiful bots. He dove towards the little blue hedgehog, seeming to have forgotten that Sonic was… well, Sonic. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” 

“I just saved my friends,” Sonic answered boldly, stomping on the controller again for good measure. When he watched the drones drop dead by Spirit, Tails, and Knuckles, he knew for sure that they were toast. Now just one more thing left to do.

Sonic slowly reached into his right glove and pulled out a tiny little object. It was small enough for Robotnik to not quite figure out just what it was, and it was only when Sonic held it up towards the burning flames in the trees that Robotnik understood.

A golden ring.

Robotnik, for the first time in his life, was speechless. 

He could only watch as Sonic closed his eyes momentarily, then threw the ring onto the ground before him. Instantly, the ring began to glow and spin before opening up a portal to some other world. Robotnik recognized it as the Mushroom Planet at first, but this one looked a lot darker. More nutrient-starved. It would be impossible for Robotnik to try and get any supplies for his drones on a planet like that. Even when he was on the Mushroom Planet, at least he was able to find some watering holes and mushrooms that didn’t seem poisonous. 

This was it.

“It’s all over isn’t it?” Robotnik asked dazily. Sonic wore a very rare expression. No ounce of mercy could be seen in his searing emerald orbs as he stared down at the pathetic man who used to be a mad scientist. He wasn’t planning on pushing Robotnik in. Robotnik was going to crawl in himself.

Like the pitiful excuse of a human that he was.

Robotnik glanced around at the burning vegetation and destroyed babies he had once cradled in his arms. The little beings that came out of his egg sack (see what I did there?) They were all destroyed. He had gone through so much trouble to come up with this beautiful plan, this beautiful robot, only to have it taken down within seconds by a couple of angry hedgehogs?

Maybe he should find another hobby.

Maybe Agent Stone had been right all those times he had tried to steer him down another path. Maybe he could find some other outlet for his personal problems that didn’t have to do with forcing his wants on other people and hurting them if they didn’t go with it straight away. Threatening people and making them try to kill themselves just because they were weak. Maybe if he had been a better person, then none of this would have happened. Maybe then he and Agent Stone could have been happy. Maybe then he could have been friends with the hedgehogs. Even though they were painfully annoying.

This was it. Robotnik was never a lion, was he? No. He had pretended to be a lion, always putting his bark before his bite. Always trying to use his smarts and his pride to trump character. He thought he was better than everyone else. And then he got punched in the face by a girl.

The true zebra surrendered. 

“Well played, Sonic,” Robotnik had to commend the alien creature. Sonic’s eyes widened momentarily at the first comment he had ever received from this man. “Well played.” 

And with that, Robotnik drug himself forward and fell through the portal.

♡♡♡

Shadow’s gun glinted in the dancing flames of the trees from his tool belt. 

Y/n stared up into his angry red irises and immediately went limp. Shadow freezes momentarily, confused by her sudden actions. Why had she stopped fighting him? He enjoyed it when she fought him, it brought up some weird emotion of adrenaline and plea-

“Dumbass.” 

Wait, what? Shadow felt a strange lightness on his waist. He glanced down only to hear the sound of a gun cocking. 

“Shit.” He cursed, looking up to be met with a very shocking sight.

There Y/n lay beneath him, her teeth gritting as tears streamed down her glowing e/c orbs. Her hands were trembling as she held the gun to his head, trying her very hardest to fight against the debilitation that he put her under. He made her want to die just by looking at her, let alone touching her. And now she had to make him stop. He glanced to the side by her head and felt a draining sensation through his chest when he saw what used to be the remote controller for Metal Sonic. She must have found a way to smash it at some point.

But then he realized something. 

“You’re a fool,” He scoffed, shaking his head. “A beautiful fool.” 

Y/n didn’t respond, but the shift in her expression let him know that she heard him perfectly. 

Wait. 

No, she thought. This wouldn’t work. He isn’t afraid of the gun. He isn’t afraid of it because he knows that even if she wanted to, she might not be able to pull the trigger. No, his fear wasn’t of having a gun put to his chest. But what he was afraid of...

Y/n slowly turned the gun around in her hands until it was pressed up against her forehead. 

She placed her finger over the trigger, and Shadow’s facade crumbled almost instantly. He wrapped his hands around hers, trying desperately to yank it away from her forehead. They were no longer physically fighting one another as he sat on top of her stomach, pinning her to the ground. No. The fight was now over the gun Y/n was pressing to her head. But even when Shadow tugged at it with all his might, it didn’t budge an inch. The glowing in Y/n’s eyes explained why. 

But she wasn’t done yet.

“You did this to me.” 

Shadow froze, staring straight into Y/n’s burning e/c eyes as they swirled with a tornado of emotions. Anger, hatred, betrayal, hurt, disgust. 

Sadness.

“You did this to me, Shadow. You made me think that dying would be better than living on this earth. You hurt a perfectly good batch of people, all for what? For money? For something that you didn’t even understand. You hurt me, Shadow.” 

Shadow’s hands fell limp by his sides, and if Y/n didn’t know any better, she could practically see his soul shatter through his eyes. 

“You. Hurt. Me.” 

Shadow instantly began shaking his head, the last bit of denial still trying to claw its way to the surface. 

“N-no, no, n-no, I-I love you, I-”

“You tried to make me kill myself. You. Hurt. Me.” With her final words, Shadow finally broke. Watching all the fire drain from his eyes, Y/n took the opportunity to smash the gun against the side of his head, knocking him out successfully. He slumped onto the ground in an unnatural position and Y/n finally heaved in a shaky breath. She pulled her shaking body up into a sitting position and stared down at the gun in her hands.

A tiny tear drop fell onto the trigger.

She had won.

♡ a.a.

[kathyprior4200]

Haven Hotel: That’s Disengagement!

 A princess with long black wavy hair walked out onto a high balcony. She wore a black undershirt with a white bow tie on top. A dark teal shirt, long white pants and white high heel shoes completed the look. Her face was pale white and teal blushes were present on her cheeks. Her eyes consisted of white pupils and dark blue sclera. Perched on her head was a black spiked crown. She was the inverted, antithesis of Charlie, the princess of Hell in a parallel world.

 “For all my life, I’ve been taught that all angels have good inside them. But I know that to be a lie. Ever since Lucifer and Lilith, God’s closest angels betrayed Him… I don’t think I can believe in these flawed teachings anymore…”

 The princess was Coerciona Egnam, Coercia for short. She was born and raised in Heaven…though she was not at all one would expect her to be in such a place. Self-entitled and pessimistic, nothing much could cheer her up except heavy metal music, rebelling against the rules and the occasional brawl.

 “It makes sense that only a worthy few are able to be here in Heaven. Choosing them out of the sea of sinner scum. Yet ironically, even the saints and Heaven-born aren’t flawless all the time. It’s inevitable that all those imperfect beings will go to Hell. They deserve to deal with suffering and challenges. Best of all, they wouldn’t be bound by social expectations. Heck, I wouldn’t be too surprised if it were me. I do enjoy my comfortable life here, just not these restrictions.”

 Her servants Pub and Chub were fat white naked cherubs with horns on their heads, small white feathery wings, and black eyes. One tested the strings on an electric guitar while the other shot out torpedoes from a small cannon.

 Outside was a white clock tower standing tall against the blue sky. The numbers read 0 then changed to 365 days. Writing above the numbers read “Days until the next cleanse in Hell.”

 The black Exorcists did their job in eliminating part of the demon population in 2P Hell like they did every year in the canon Hell. But at the same time each year, the Anti-Exorcists, risen white demons with white bat wings and horns, invaded 2P Heaven. They carried glowing black pitchforks and turned innocent denizens into demons. The Anti-Exorcists would carry books and tempt angels with their innermost desires. Sex, sin, self-expression, sorcery, whatever that need was. Then, once they were hooked, they were stabbed with the pitchforks, causing their wings to burn off and sending them plummeting down to Hell. Nearby families would grieve at their loss.

 It was quite the entertaining show for Princess Coercia!

  Coercia leaned against the marble balcony and began to sing in a low growl.

     (“I’m Always Evading Shadows”)

  “At the end of the journey, there’s suffering

Denying it, how often I’ve tried

But my life’s a disgrace

Just a slap in the face

And the harsh truths have all been denied”

 “A sliver of despair in this world of light

I know this world’s not free of sin

I search for the good

But get misunderstood

And reality will always win”

 “Why have I always been imperfect?

Lost in this brainwashed sea

I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me”

 “I’m always evading shadows

Trapped, drowning in the social flow

Free-will forbidden, my answers are hidden

Lying down below”

 “Some people sugarcoat their speeches

I always blab out what I mean

I may be cruel but I am no fool

Things are never what they seem

Believe me”

 “I’m always evading shadows

Waiting for people to awaken

In vain”

    A nearby portal opened and out came the Exterminators, bloodstains over their wings and bodies and harpoons. They took off their creepy LED masks, their white angelic faces revealed. One by one, the citizens clapped and cheered. One of the Archangels with four black wings flew up to the front, his spiked halo glowing. He took off his mask, revealing a white stern face with yellow eyes and short black hair. In his utility belt were a few daggers, whips, chains and a bottle of emergency holy water.

 “Another successful purge,” their leader Samael (Venom of God) praised. “You cleansed more sinners while still keeping the population in a good balance. Well done, all of you.” He cleared his throat and made a cross symbol over his heart. “For the greater good in the name of our Lord.”

 The angels repeated the phrase.

 “Until next year. Dismissed.” The Archangel soldiers saluted and then flew off separately to see their families. Several of the angels, having been brainwashed in their Exterminator states, shook their heads sadly at what they had done.

 All around Coercia, Holy City was basked in a heavenly glow. The city was located up in the sky among the clouds, but no one had to worry about falling, even the ones without their wings out. A large church with the appearance of the Notre Dame Cathedral stood proudly in the city square, made of polished marble. Choirs and songs floated through the stained glass windows as the regular angels went in and out to pray and visit with their neighbors. A large fountain sprouted non-alcoholic wine of a golden color. It had a white statue of Mary and Jesus as a young boy at the top, both with welcoming faces.

 The streets were spotless and clean. Roofs and roads were powered by the sun’s rays. The Cloud 9 supermarket had endless amounts of food for sale…no one ever had to worry about going hungry. Charity workers and volunteers worked by the dozens, passing out food and bestowing miracles for those who needed them in the lower levels of Heaven. Metatron, the highest ranking angel, was busy keeping records of human lives, deaths and the messages of God.

 This version of Heaven was very similar to the Heaven in the realm next door, the one above the familiar Hell with the Hazbin Hotel. The architecture was almost the same. But unlike those angels with their blonde hair and red blushes, these angels most often had black hair and teal blushes on their pale cheeks. Like in the other Heaven, some of the bipedal angels displayed animal-like characteristics: some had heads of doves, others had swan wings and mannerisms. Many of them had fur, ears, and fluffy tails of dogs and wolves. It was the only place where dogs and cats could dance and prance together without conflict. Still a few others had faces of flowers or even objects like harps and musical instruments.

 God’s Palace was the grandest place of all: it was settled at the highest point of Heaven like Mount Olympus. Only a few angels were allowed to visit there. God’s abode, the Empyrean, had an elite group of angels guarding it. Seraph angels with six fiery rainbow wings guarded the throne of God, chanting “Holy, holy, holy!” much to the annoyance to those nearby. There were rumors that in the palace gardens, the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge were grown there, heavily protected.

 Lucius and Lilian were Coercia’s parents, those who took the place of Lucifer and Lilith after they were banished. They were named the new king and queen of heaven (Under God and a few Archangels), thus Coercia became the princess.

 Lucius had a white face, teal blushes on his cheeks and short dark hair. Lucius wore a gray suit with a dark blue bow tie and a black top hat with two white feathers attacked to the brim. Lilian’s hair was long and black, and she too had the teal blushes and typical angel features. She wore a golden halo crown and an elegant white sequined dress. Both had white wings which could turn black when they were angry or defensive.

 In a nearby movie studio, Valentine the butterfly producer, Nil the TV angel and Ashen, the doll angel sat together playing a board game. Despite liking old fashioned shows and the like, they still controlled much of Heaven’s technology and media. Iris, owner of an emporium, cried as she crossed out the name of her former female colleague, Francesca.

 Along the street, a red car stopped beside the sidewalk. A tall creature opened the car door and stepped out. The spider angel had a furry dark gray face and body, plus multiple slender arms: six in total. He wore tall boots, green gloves and a shirt with a teal bow-tie near the top. His shirt and sleeves had black and dark green stripes. Green dots resembling eyes were located under his eyes.

 “Thank you for the ride,” said the spider angel.

 “No problem, Devil Grit,” said the driver Sivart, a white furry owl guy wearing a top hat. He tipped his hat to him and drove away.

 Devil Grit walked over to a vending machine and bought himself a granola bar. He then gave it to a homeless guy leaning against the wall.

 He walked inside a building and onto a stage in an auditorium. His opponent was already standing nervously at his spot, a microphone rising from the ground and stopping in front of him.

 Sir Anguis was the nervous white snake. He had a white face with large slightly teal eyes with white pupils. He wore a white bow tie with a blue circle in the center below his thin neck. Surrounding his face on a flap of skin were bright teal eyes against dark purple. His suit was light gray with dark purple vertical stripes. Finally, he wore a large light gray top hat with a large green moving eye in the center.

 The crowd settled into their seats and the debate began.

 “Those other brave do gooders will do great with helping me with my presentation. Anyone want to try?”

 A couple of hands shot up. Mechanical eggs on robotic legs moved around to help out the white snake lord.

 “Oh thank you, my Nestlings,” he said.

 Air Anguis pushed a button and a presentation showed up on a screen titled “Heaven Economics and Invention Ideas.”

 “I don’t like to fight,” Sir Anguis said, clearing his throat, “and I’m super nervous up here…”

 The Nestlings rolled their eyes.

 Devil Grit glared at his cowardly opponent who then yelped, “Don’t look at me like that!”

 “Heaven doesn’t need any future technology,” Devil Grit argued as he stepped to his podium, “because we already have better things: friendships, food, and fun.”

 Sir Anguis glanced down nervously at his note cards and read from them. “At this rate I will persuade the entire East end of Holy City by night’s beginning. Or was it day’s end? And nothing, not a single beauty in this paradise of bliss, will be able to change my mind or escape the constrictive grasp of persuasive argumentation.”

 “Heaven will be ours, though it’s mine in my mind. And everybody will know the name of…”

 “Scared Snake,” said a female voice.

 “W-who said that?” Sir Anguis asked.

 “You ready for a debate, old man?”

 The voice belonged to Berri Blossom, the opposite of Cherri Bomb in Hell. She was a tall cyclops with black skin, with a single green eye with a black cross in the center. She wore a long dark green dress and white high heeled shoes. Her black skin was decorated in some areas near her shoulders with tiny teal specks. Her long hair was curly, blue at the top and black near the bottom. She pushed her thin dark rimmed glasses up to her face, looking at her organized set of notes in front of her.

 She walked over beside her academic partner Devil Grit. “Why don’t you play with your tinker toys somewhere else while I go over the logistics of divine law school?” She looked professional and poised. “Seven Reasons Why Heavenly Traditions Never Fail.”

 “You want to go, madam?” Sir Anguis asked, a spark of rebellion in him. He fiddled with a few gadgets before the well-dressed Nestling eggs…egged him on to continue. He flicked his hood back. “Well, let the battle for tenure and status begin!”

  A neon logo appeared on the screen, saying “777 News” surrounded by a halo. The names of the news cast appeared on the bottom of the screen.

 “Good afternoon, Holy City!” smiled a pale woman with short black hair, wearing a light blue dress. “I’m Catie Carejoy!”

 “And I’m Ron Wrench!” said the man next to her, wearing a business suit and who had a wrench for a head.

After discussing the weather, various humane societies, and legends on Earth, Catie continued, “The debate battle is underway between inventor and coward Sir Anguis and professional economics expert Berri Blossom. Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the daughter of His Majesty Lucius, who’s here to discuss her brand new passion-project! All that and more after the break!”

 Inside the break room, Phalla the romantic butterfly angel adjusted Coercia’s white bow tie. Nearby, a blue tinted sign read “No smoking.” Another sign read “In The Air” in large letters.

 “Okay, you remember what to say?” Phalla asked Coercia.

 “Yes, I’m ready,” Coercia stated.

 Phalla brushed her long black hair from her face, the ends of her black hair teal. Like Vaggie in Hell, Phalla’s thick hair extended down to her legs, giving her hair the appearance of moth wings. She had a glowing green cross over her right eye and her left eye was purple with a white pupil. A teal bow was perched on top of her head. Her skin was light gray and she wore a dark gray crop top with white Xs over her breasts. She also wore leggings, her right legging striped dark green and light gray, her left legging light gray.

 “Oh this is gonna be great!” Phalla squealed happily. “How about you make your speech sound more exciting?”

 “Come on, Phalla, I know what I’m going to say,” Coercia answered, crossing her arms.

 Phalla walked over to the pitcher of ambrosia punch on the table. Pub and Chub ate bagels from the table. Phalla got an idea. “Oh! What if you…”

 “Sing a song about it?” Coercia asked, with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not going to. This is serious!” She curled her hand into a fist and brought it down on the palm of her other hand. “They won’t take me serious if I start belting out some random song. Life isn’t a musical.”

 “But neither is it an emo tragedy,” Phalla pointed out. “Life is great, especially with all the cute guys around.” Her single purple eye shinned.

 “Romance, bleh,” Coercia made a face and Phalla giggled.

“Hey,” Phalla brightened, pulling out a piece of paper. “I have some ideas about what you could say.” She bounced up and down. “The highlighted bits are the best parts!”

 “They’re all highlighted,” Coercia replied, scanning the paper. “You call your childish drawing your ideas for me?”

 “Sure!” Phalla said. “Look here.” It showed a list of different terms “sinners = winners” “Misunderstood are still good” and “demons and angels party between worlds!” Skulls were lined up at the bottom of the page: “we’re all connected by death.”

 “Say, that’s actually pretty good!” Coercia said with a smile of sharp teeth.

 “Thanks!” Phalla beamed.

 Coercia snatched the piece of paper from her friend and tore it in half, much to her shock. “But you should know my ideas are always better.” She tossed the pieces of paper aside, gave a salute and walked out the door.

 Catie waved with a smile. “Hi. I’m Catie Carejoy.” She held out her hand but Coercia didn’t take it, instead remarking, “You can put that away. I don’t touch commoners, I have standards.” Catie, looked stunned, pulling her hand back. “So this project of yours, when did you come up with this idea of creating a hotel in order to…break the law as the rumors say?”

 The angel crew murmured nervously.

 “I’m gonna keep this short,” Coercia said as she walked over to the desk. “You might think my idea doesn’t hold water, but that doesn’t matter to me. I’m too influential to give a flying feather about what some stuffy old news lady thinks of my proposal.”

 The crowd gasped. Ron shook his head.

 “Well, if you can’t take constructive criticism and be polite…”

“…and we’re live!” called a voice as a buzzer sounded.

 “And we’re back!” Catie said, rushing over into her seat. “So, Carrie…”

 “It’s Princess Coerciona Egnam,” said Coercia, sitting in a chair beside her and Ron Wrench.

 “Sorry. So tell us about your project.”

 Coercia took a deep breath. “As most of you know, I was born here in Heaven, and growing up, I’ve always tried to see the good in everything around me. But recently, I don’t believe that’s always the case. We just completed another Extermination. So many sinful souls lost but for what reason? God said in the Commandments “thou shall not kill,” yet killing random people is okay? If we can’t even trust ourselves with our actions and thoughts, is Heaven truly paradise? Not to mention that ever since Lucifer and Lilith betrayed Him, we don’t know who to really trust. Some people are given too many chances!” She pounded her fist on the desk, startling Catie.

 Coercia stood up and made her way forward. “No one is truly flawless. Mistakes are made, but we get blamed for doing things we sometimes enjoy. Sex, drugs, partying, swearing, even violence. All because we don’t live up to impossible standards imposed upon us, both here and on Earth! I can’t stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such lies and propaganda! So, I’ve been thinking…isn’t there a more liberating way to hinder forced compliance here in Heaven? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to express change through…recreation?”

 The angels talked quietly amongst themselves. Phalla nodded in appreciation.

 “Well I think yes,” Coercia continued. “So that’s what this project aims to achieve.” She walked back to the desk and sat down. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind, a hotel that encourages moderate amounts of so-called sin!” She spread out her arms.

 The audience stared in stunned silence. Many of the adults were shaking their heads.

 “Who is that girl?” asked a dragon watching from inside a soup kitchen. “What’s her deal with trying to cause more trouble for this world?”

“She’s nuts!” added another angel with an eagle’s head and wings, wearing a suit.

 Coercia added nervously while still trying to keep a glare, “I figure it would serve a purpose…a place to work toward self-expression. Yay.”

 Among the crowd of angels watching the news outside, a tall man with a thin pale face stood toward the back. He wore a light blue dress suit, had blue and white hair, fluffy deer-like ears, and large blue eyes. His white wings were folded behind him. He watched the program with a look of worry. A deer creature made of light appeared beside him. A sign posted on the wall showing the same man as a DJ read: “Counseling and good times with the Techno Angel!”

 A camera man shook his head at Coercia. Phalla walked up to him and pleaded, “Please give her a chance.”

 Coercia sighed. “Look, I know every single one of you has insecurities and issues that need not be bottled up. If you could just embrace those sides of yourselves…”

Coercia then smirked. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you.”

 Phalla clapped her hands and “ooohed” in excitement as Rub and Chub got the electric guitar ready.

 Coercia showed a pair of sharp white teeth and black curved horns emerged from her head. Black feathery wings sprouted from her back and an X appeared over her right eye. A harpoon appeared in her right hand and a spiked halo appeared over her head.  She was in her dark angelic Exorcist form. She posed over the desk and began.

 (“Inside of Every Angel is a Sinner”)

  “I have a dream

I’m here to tell

About a fantastic mind-blowing hotel

One of a kind, go and yell

A great place to dwell

Catering to specific clientele”

 *Guitar starts and scream vocals*

 “Inside of every angel is a sinner

Inside of every do-gooder is a beast

Inside of every jolly go-lucky mentality

Is a subconscious portion we know the least”

 “Resist all the rules

You’re not passive fools!

With just a little time

Down at the Hazbin Hotel!”

 “So all you rescuers, priests, and heroes

Gifted athletes, jocks, and cheerios

And the sheep citizens, relief is here!

All of you angels, leaders, and stars

Traditionalists with fancy cars

And the activists on Mars

Show no fear

No taboos, no laws

Embrace your flaws

You’ll be truly free

Check in with me

It’s the right path, you’ll see”

 “There’ll be no more pressure

And no more status quo

Just friendship, fun, and endless bags of dough

Establishment put to rest

You’ll be like, “Yes!”

In the tunnel of darkness you’ll go!”

 “So all your hierarchies, GMOs, politics, and isms

Lectures, labor standards, and diamond studded prisms

Ancient Indian elitisms

All must die”

 “All you fantasizers, artists, servers, and lords

Spoiled children, winners of awards

Imposers of chores

Face your fear!”

  “Be who you are

And you’ll go so far

Our service will raise the bar

You’ll be the star

Come from near or afar at the Hazbin Hotel!

Yeah!”

  “Wow,” said an angel in a top hat. “That was…alright.”

  The crowd clapped half-heartedly.

  Catie shook her head. “What in the Nine Levels makes you think a single denizen of Heaven would give two feathers about becoming a sinful person? You have no proof that your little experiment even works! You want people to disobey God and the rules just…because?!”

 Coercia lifted up her head. “Well, we have a patron already who believes in our cause.”

 “And who might that be?” Catie asked.

 “Oh just someone named…Devil Grit.”

 “The grumpy old spider?” asked Ron Wrench.

 “He’s not old,” argued Catie. “He just acts older than he is.”

 “Anyway,” said Catie to Coercia. “You couldn’t even get that guy to do something bad, even if a gun was pointed at his head.”

 “Oh I beg to differ,” Coercia argued. “He’s been troubled, dirty, and having conflicted thoughts for two weeks now.”

 “Breaking news!” called a voice as the screen changed to a recent debate shown in a building.

 The news came on, detailing Devil Grit and his recent TED talk about the 7 Heavenly Virtues.

 “Well, it looks like the one discussing the Heavenly Virtues is none other than…conservative Devil Grit! What a coincidence!”

 She and Ron did a “ratings!” and jazz hands.

 Corceria rolled her eyes.

 “I’m sorry to say, but it looks like your plan’s departed on arrival,” said Catie. “I hope you learned a good lesson here.”

 Coercia’s eyes twitched, her teeth barred. “Lesson?! I’ll teach you a lesson, bitch!”  The princess and Catie fought fist and claw on the desk. Ron called for security.

 After Coercia was kicked out, Phalla followed her wordlessly to the white limo. Devil Grit, Phalla, and Coercia rode back to the hotel.

 Devil Grit lounged in the far seat, wearing an outfit of black with green stripes and green gloves on his four hands.

 “Devil,” said Phalla with concern. “I know you were trying to do good by doing your professional speech. But could you please try not to help society in public? Now people won’t believe us when Coercia says that people are free to express their earthly desires.”

 “I’m sorry Phalla,” said Devil from the other seat, “But I have a reputation to keep up. Helping the greater good is His plan for all of us. Besides, a good professional debate is a reasonable form of self-expression right?”

 “Not to everyone,” said Phalla. “What about the hotel? People are thinking that you don’t care about Coercia’s project at all.”

 “I do care, senorita,” said Devil. “I just don’t think it’s going to be easy to accomplish in such a short time. So many angels are fixated on tradition, myself included.”

 “I do appreciate all of your help,” said Coercia, still fuming after the interview, arms crossed. “But I will make this project work, even if I have to do it myself.”

 The white limo pulled up in front of the hotel, a pristine building made of glass and marble. The group got out of the car and stepped inside.

 White wings made of rainbow scales posed as part of the structure on the roof. The stained glass windows by the door were decorated with apples, a tree of life, and many shades of blue and green. The sign above read “Hazbin Hotel” in big letters on the roof. Inside the lobby, a painting of Adam reaching toward God was displayed on the high ceiling. The hotel had seven floors with seven rooms on each floor. There was even a lab down in the basement which belonged to a man named Baker, the opposite of the demon fish scientist Baxter from Hell. A bowl of blue berries and blue raspberries sat on a table below a welcome banner. Phalla rested on a couch while Devil Grit munched on a granola bar.

 “It’s probably a good idea to stock up some more food in this place,” said Devil Grit. “Good or bad, people always seem to be greedy when they’re hungry.”

 Devil Grit pulled out a chart and went over probabilities and graphs regarding the hotel and the potential number of visitors. Coercia just sighed and walked away toward the door. She went outside and took out her cell phone, calling her mom.

 “Carol cakes!” called her mother through the phone. Coercia cringed.

 “Mom, I told you not to call me that! I’m not a little kid anymore.”

 “Sorry, I can’t help it,” said Lilian with a giggle. “How was the interview?”

 “Meh. It was alright. I proposed my idea, but nobody seemed to buy it.”

 Lilian’s tone turned more serious. “Coercia, why do you insist that everyone must go down to that horrible place? Why can’t you just see the good in people?”

 “Because,” Coercia said, “Everyone has flaws and they don’t realize it.”

 “Yes, but that also applies to you, too. Before you get involved with the lives of others, you need to look inside and critique yourself.”

 “I’m a princess. Everyone else has more flaws than I do.”

 Lilian let out a long sigh. “Young lady, we’ve been through this I don’t know how many times. You have to push your selfish thoughts aside and just accept the way things are. It’s part of a higher purpose.”

 “And what is this “higher purpose” anyway? To be His flock of dazed sheep, dancing around without any care in the world? To not experience ecstasy and adventure, even for just a moment?”

 “That stuff is dangerous and forbidden. Thousands of souls would do anything to get up to this level of Heaven. And you just want to throw your life away?”

 Coercia paused in thought. “If it means proving myself and serving Him in a way I see fit, then so be it.”

 “You have delusions of what entertainment and happiness is, Carol. Sometimes, you need to take the time and appreciate the beauty that’s in front of you.”

 “Other than my own refection, I don’t really see beauty in many other things. Well, heavy metal and watching battles…oh and watching sinners beg for their last breaths…”

 “You have a lot to learn, dear daughter,” Lilian replied. “I’ll leave you alone to think about it.”

 “Whatever.”

 “Love you.”

 “Love you too. Bye.”

  Coercia hung up and went back inside, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the door frame, closing her eyes in frustration…trying to hold back a stream of tears from the stress.

  Just then, there was a knock on the door. Two knocks, four ones, then a last one. Coercia turned around with a sigh to answer it. She swung the stained glass door open. From outside stood a tall slender man with a pale light gray face, wearing a light blue pinstriped dress coat. A white upward cross was part of the design on his light blue undershirt. He was carrying a modern microphone atop a staff in his left hand. His small antlers were white and his hair and deer ears were blue with white tips. A monocle rested under his left eye. Coercia narrowed her eyes.

 “Hi, excuse me…” he spoke quietly. “Is this…”

 Coercia angrily slammed the door in his face.

 She opened it again.

 “…the right address?” finished the man.

 “No!” she shouted, slamming it again.

 “Hey Phalla!” called Coercia.

 “What?” her friend asked.

 “The crybaby Deer Man is at the door!”

 “What?!” she asked, blushes appearing on her cheeks.

 “Who?” asked Devil Grit.

 “What should I do?”

 “Well…let him in!” Phalla cried, eye shining.

 Coercia rolled her eyes and scoffed. She sighed and opened the door again.

 “May I talk now?” the man asked in a radio voice.

 “Sure, whatever,” Coercia said.

 The man held out a white gloved four-fingered hand. “Rotsala, it’s a pleasure to meet you, miss.” He walked in. Worry was etched on his face. “I saw your interview on the picture show and I was worried sick! I was afraid you were never coming back after your argument. Why I haven’t been that upset since the 1929 Stock Market Crash!” He sniffed, “So many poor orphans…”

 “Hello there!” Phalla called with a smile, staring up and walking in front of him. She greeted in Spanish. “I’m so glad you’re here to help out my friend with this new hotel! I’m a big fan of yours and just being in your presence is just…” She swooned. “Oh just take me already you cute, pompous, talk show, blueberry pimp lord!”

 She embraced him and he stood stunned, his face blushing. “I do love hugs,” he whispered as she stepped back. “I bet all of you would be so nice and soft after we get to know each other for a while…”

 Phalla blushed while Devil Grit and Coercia made disgusted faces. “Not gonna happen, creep,” Devil Grit said.

 Rotsala gave a nervous laugh, and popped a strawberry and blueberry into his mouth.

 “You’re not gonna cling to us are you?” Phallas asked. “Or, you know…”

“Dear, if I wanted to screw anyone here…I would’ve done so already.”

 Rotsala tilted his head. His blue eyes briefly glowed with blue upside down radio dials in them. Electricity sparked around cyan colored voodoo symbols in the air. His eyes filled with tears, tears spilling down his pale gray cheeks.

 Phalla watched in bliss, while Devil and Coercia rolled their eyes at the show-off.

 Rotsala shook his head and his eyes returned to normal blue.

 “No, I’m here because I want to relax and help out.”

 “Say what?” Coercia asked, eyebrow raised.

Rotsala held up his staff which glowed blue. He said with a sad crack in his voice, “Goodbye, is this thing off?”

 He tapped it. A blue sad looking eye appeared in the center of the microphone. It spoke in a mechanical voice. “You’re silent, quiet and unclear!”

 “That’s your motivation motto every day?” Devil Grit asked, crossing his four arms. “Pathetic!”

 “Tragic and mysterious, I love it!” Phalla squealed. “It’s like the opposite of announcing. It’s…denouncing.”

 Devil Grit elbowed her. “Hun, could you not get attracted to every other man you see?  I’m your boyfriend.”

 “I can’t help it, love!” she cried. “I just get so distracted easily.”

  “Um…you want to help?” Coercia asked.

 Rotsala appeared behind them after morphing into light.

 “With…” he spoke in her growl then his normal shy sounding voice, “…this random thing you’re trying to do. This hotel. I want to help you run it, if that’s okay.”

 “Uh…why?”

 Rotsala choked a bit on his words. “Why doesn’t anyone do anything? Sheer absolute lethargy! I’ve been partying around and keeping busy for decades. I would like to do something more relaxing and easier.”

  “My work became overwhelming, lacking focus. I’ve come to crave a new form of disengagement!”

 Coercia rolled her eyes. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as disengagement?”

 “No,” Rotsala said. “It’s violent and messy, not really my thing. Life is truly strange…reality, fantasy, true tragedy. After all the world is a grave, and the grave is a world of disengagement!”

 Coercia brightened a bit. “So, does this mean you think it’s possible to taint an angel? That life is meaningless without your own self to temporarily control it.”

 Rotsala sniffed and held up a hand. “Who knows? Anything’s possible. Sinning, oh the vice of humanity! I think there’s plenty left that can change such marvelous saints. But then again, the chance that was given to them was the life they lived before. The reward is this!” He spread out his arms. “According to God, there’s no undoing what is done…or at least that’s the way it should be.”

“So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t fully believe in my cause?” Coercia asked.

 Rotsala turned around to look at her. “Consider it an investment in ongoing knowledge for myself and others.” He let out a small smile. “I want to watch the blessed of this world struggle to give into temptation, only to repeatedly realize and raise themselves up the golden ladder of success!” His eyes glowed blue.

 “Right…” Coercia began.

 “Yes indeed,” Rotsala said, both of them walking off to the side. “I see you taking risks and who better to keep you grounded than I.”

 “Ah, so what’s the deal with Mr. Frown over there?” Devil Grit asked.

 “Wait, you’ve never heard of him before?” Phalla asked. “You’ve been here longer than me!”

 Devil shrugged his shoulders.

 “The Techno Angel, one of the most complex beings Heaven as ever seen?”

 “Eh, I’m not too big on people.”

 Phalla sighed and leaned in close to explain.

 “Decades ago, Rotsala manifested in Heaven, seemingly in one day. He began to catch the attention of overlords and archangels who had kept to themselves for centuries. That kind of attraction and magic power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcast his adventures all throughout Heaven just so everyone could experience some joy, tragedy and emotions. Saints starting calling him the Techno Angel, (as unoriginal as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world’s most ancient and constructive heroes. But one thing’s for sure: he’s an unpredictable source of silliness, a depressed spirit of mystery and a loving being of order…or disorder, the likes of which we can get involved in, especially if we want to end up aroused!”

 “You done?” Devil asked. “He looks like a blueberry businessman. Or a shady con-man. Either way, you’re delusional.”

 “Well, I trust him completely!”

 “Do you blindly trust any man? All men?”

 Phalla skipped over to Coercia. Rotsala examined a family portrait of Lucius, Lilian and a young Coercia in the center. Young Coercia wore a white dress with a turquoise top to it. Her hair was jet black, braided in black barbed wire, her cheeks had teal blushes. Her mother had long black hair and wore a fancy white dress and a round gold crown. Her father was dressed in a dress suit of white and blue, with blue and black stripes in the center below a white bow tie. He wore a large light gray top hat with a dove and a green apple on it. His cane also had a green apple on the top. Both of them were smiling, showing rows of sharp teeth, white wings folded behind them.

 “Coercia, listen to me, you can believe this dreamer. He isn’t just a sad face. He’s a miracle maker, pure good! But… don’t count on him to believe in your cause. He could be tainted and rebel, but we don’t know that. He could very well side with God and your parents. And he’s most likely looking for a way to hinder everything we’re trying to do if it means following God’s rules. But still, give him a chance. He’s really sweet.”

 “I…” Coercia began. “…we don’t know that. Look, he’s a crying bitch, and he probably doesn’t want to change.”

 Phalla put her hands on her friend’s shoulders.

 “The whole point of your hotel is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better and people can embrace their flaws, their true selves! How can you turn someone away? You can’t. It goes against everything you’re trying to do. Everything you believe in.”

 Coercia looked downcast. Her friend had a good point. She hated when people made good arguments against her. But it also gave her a chance to consider her thoughts. Phalla kept her grounded and added some cheer to her overall fake afterlife. Coercia smiled at her.

 “You take care of yourself,” she said to Phalla.

“Coercia,” warned Phalla, “Unless you are serious about responsibility, do not make a promise with him!”

 Demons often made deals with each other that often resulted in gaining power at the cost of one’s soul or freedom. Usually the one who initiated the deal would gain advantage. A demonic deal was bad in and of itself. Breaking an angelic promise could result in rejection, eternal torture and damnation.

 “Don’t worry,” said Coercia. “I learned one thing from my dad.” She mimicked his low voice, “Ya don’t break trust with other angels!”

 Coercia marched over to the Techno Angel.

 “Ok Mr. Rot... You’re prissy as fuck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a too-dangerous risk. But I don’t.”

 Glowing blue symbols briefly appeared around a concerned Rotsala, then vanished.

 Coercia continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be themselves. After all, it’s in their nature and the sooner they realize it, the better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition there be no lessons or lovey-dovey speeches made.”

 Rotsala twirled his cane and held out his smallest finger from his right hand.

“So, it’s a promise, then?”

 The room was surrounded by a pink aura as light spirits roamed around the walls. The wind blew against Phalla’s and Devil’s faces.

 “Nope!” Coercia yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking, no promises! I…hmmm…”

 She paused in thought.

 “As Princess of Heaven and heir to the throne, I hereby order that you help out with this hotel for as long as you desire.”

 A moment of pause…

 “Sound fair?”

 “Fair enough,” Rotsala said with a slump of his shoulders and walked on. His cane vanished.

 Rotsala stopped and spotted Phalla to the side.

 Phalla went up and tickled him under the chin, much to his shock.

 “Smile, deer man!” she said.

 Rotsala walked on, speechless.

  “So…where is your hotel staff?” Rotsala asked Coercia.

 “Uh well,” Coercia began. Rotsala peered at Phalla through his monocle below his left eye.

 He stuttered. “You’re going to n-need more than that.”

 Rotsala walked over to Devil Grit, who was sitting on a stool.

 “And what can I do, my business fellow?” asked Rotsala walking over to the dark furred spider, blushing.

 “You can suck a dick,” Devil retorted in a grumpy tone.

 “AH! Ok,” said Rotsala, blushing and stepping back. “Can it be yours?”

 “Fuck off,” Devil added, pulling out a long knife from his belt.

 Rotsala summoned his cane. “Well this just won’t do. You want others to cause trouble, yes? I suppose I can cash in a few favors to deaden things up!”

 He snapped his fingers and the wall beside the fireplace cracked. The circle went dark, the fire going out. Ice cold water appeared to fill in the circle and a shadowy figure solely formed inside. Rotsala walked over and removed the dripping figure from the water. A large single purple eye was revealed.

 Devil Grit, Phalla and Coercia peered at the creature. With a balloon deflating sound and a puff of white smoke, the figure was revealed.

 “This little rascal is Klutzy!” Rotsala announced with a worried smile, dropping the figure.

 A black-skinned short cyclops female landed on her face on the floor. She stood up with a grumpy look on her face. She wore a dark green skirt with a white stray cat off to the left side. Her arms and legs were white and stick-shaped. Several blue dots stood out from the lighter green color of her skirt. Her shirt was black with cyan paint spots off to the right. Her large eye took up much of her pale white face; it was dark blue with a white pupil. Her short hair was teal with a dark blue spot off to the left.

 “I’m Klutzy,” she grumbled, clenching her fists. “It’s a waste of time to meet you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen strangers.”

  Her pupil narrowed from side to side.

 “Why are you all men?” she asked. “Have any women here? Or video games? Screw this place.”

 She briefly picked up Coercia, then let go.

 “Oh man, this place is boring!” she exclaimed. She ran over to a vase and proceeded to knock it over with her elbow. It shattered to pieces on the floor. She tossed couch cushions aside.

 “It really needs a more manly touch, disorganized clutter’s more fun.” She grinned as she poured dirt from a flower pot onto the rug.

 “Yes, yes, yep, yeah!” she yelled as she proceeded to break windows and knock down more stuff. Then she plopped down on a couch once the room was messy. “I’m bored. Make me some food or something.”

 Phalla, Devil, and Coercia looked on in worry, Rotsala just stared off into space. “She has quite the temper sometimes.”

 A cat angel was working on a Rubik’s cube with colleagues. His furry face was black, framed by white fur. His little top hat was white with a blue band across it. A big teal bow tie was under his neck, over his black furry chest framed by white fur. His wings were a brilliant blue, with black and red mathematical symbols on either side: the pi symbol, E = mc squared, signs for addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, among others. More symbols were visible within his two pointed ears. His teeth were sharp and purple and his long eyebrows were teal. His eyes were purple and sclera white. The angel placed a Rubik’s cube in front of him. “Ha!” he declared in triumph. Read ‘em and weep, boys! Full…whoa…”

 He felt himself being transported in a flash of light to the hotel. Part of the science room that the cat had been in was merged with the hotel lobby…posters of the elements, the solar system and Biblical works of art.

 “What in Heaven’s name is going on?

 Then he brightened when he saw Rotsala. “You!”

“Ah, Core, my old friend,” Stalaro sniffed, his head briefly looking like it was in between antlers from a stuffed deer head on the wall. “You made it.”

 “Glad to see you, you son of the sun!” Core said. “I just completed my Rubik’s cube after just an hour.”

 The cube vanished as Rotsala looked on.

Core raced over to Rotsala and embraced him in a side hug. The deer-like man blushed. “So, what can I help you with this time?”

 Rotsala blinked nervously. “C-Can we snuggle?”

 Core laughed. “I mean, seriously, why’d you bring me here?”

 “My friend, I’m doing some dirty work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services. If that’s okay?”

 “You must be joking,” Core said, laughing nervously.

 “I don’t think so,” he replied.

 “You thought it’d be a great idea just to pull me out of nowhere? You think I’m some kind of tragic boy?”

 “Maybe,” Rotsala sighed, as crying sounds came from his microphone.

 “I ain’t doing no dirty work.”

 Rotsala appeared behind him. “Well I figured you would be the perfect face to greet and critique the guests at this fine establishment.”

 He pointed his staff off toward a stand with vegetable drinks as claps and boos sounded from his staff.

 “With your grumpy cat face and love of solitude…”

 Core lifted up the corners of Rotsala mouth with his paws. “Aw come on, Al, Don’t forget to smile once in a while!”

 His mouth frowned once he let go.

 Rotsala walked over to the stand. “Don’t worry, my friend. I can make this more interesting…if you wish.”

 He conjured up a bottle of catnip with his finger.

 Core stared with wide happy eyes. “What, you think you can buy me with sad eyes and some cheap catnip? Well, you can!” He purred and took the bottle with him.

 Coercia, Devil, and Phalla arrived.

 “Yes, yes, yes!” Phalla squealed. “Brilliant idea to have healthy drinks!”

 “No!” Coercia protested. “This is supposed to be a place that encourages sin! Not some kind of, frilly, Zen, child’s play…”

 Core noticed Devil Grit and slid up to him. “Hey cutie,” he flirted.

 “Go screw yourself,” muttered Devil Grit.

 “Only if you watch me,” Core joked. “Or more likely, Rotsala will watch you.”

 Coercia leaned in close to Core. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! You are going to go insane here!” She grinned, her teeth sharp.

 “We’re all mad here,” Core replied, sniffing the catnip.

 Rotsala walked in, an ever-present frown on his face. “S-so, what do you think?”

 Rotsala ran over to him. “This is horrible!” she spat.

 “It’s amazing!” Phalla beamed.

 Phalla leaned in close between Coercia and Rotsala, embracing them in a hug.

 “This is going to be very disengaging,” Rotsala exclaimed. Dubstep sounds emitted from his mouth as he stared around with worry. He stepped away from Phalla. “Coercia, I can’t lose you. We can’t lose you.”

 Rotsala changed his light blue suit into a dark blue funeral outfit with a matching top hat. He did the same with Coercia, Devil Grit, Core, Klutzy, and Phalla, who were all wearing black clothing from the early 1900s. Coercia wore a short tan flapper dress and a round matching ladies’ hat. She and Klutzy stared at their outfits in disgust, while Devil Grit, Core and Phalla smiled as they stared at theirs. The room changed, the walls now covered with Voodoo symbols, Christian crosses and deer antlers.

 “Take it boys,” Rotsala said. Light spirits appeared and played violins, a piano, and a flute in a sad symphony.

 Rotsala sang his reprise to Coercia as they did a slow dance. Coercia looked annoyed but Rotsala smiled.

  (“Stalaro’s lament Reprise”)

 “You’re on a mission

Your innocence fell

And it’s so dangerous but hey, I wish you well

Yes your blunt protests

Will send you straight to Hell

And I can’t bear to see you banished, or your soul up to sell”

  “Don’t bring your life to an end

No matter what you say, I’m still your friend

We all have our wounds to mend

And you’re vulnerable feelings are real, don’t pretend”

 “Inside of every angel is love and emotion

They have values and lasting devotion (devotion to God)

While you recruit those around

Don’t be swallowed by the ground

The authorities can retrieve you tight and bound (no turning around)”

 “Here above the sky

Spread your wings and fly

They’ll spend a little time

Down at this Haven Ho…”

  An explosion rattled the windows. Klutzy saw a door flying toward her face and she broke it in half with a karate chop.

 The room and everyone’s clothing returned to normal.

 Everyone looked outside and saw a podium in the air, held up by flying metallic eggs. A familiar snake debater appeared.

 “Look who it is harboring the striped annoying opponent! We meet again, Rotsala!”

 “Do I know you?” Rotsala asked.

 Tears came to Anguis’ eyes. “Oh yes, you do! Watch this presentation!”

 The eggs danced in the air, singing a song about Sir Anguis trying his best to rule Heaven. He read from notecards. “You all can’t compete with me. Your hotel sucks. I…shall…destroy it…with… my…”

 Rotsala giggled and blushed. “Your baby weiner havor?”

 Anguis looked up from his cards in anger. “Not like that, pervert!”

 Rotsala snapped his fingers. A portal appeared and white tentacles shot out, knocking the podium off balance. The metal eggs knocked into Sir Anguis and he yelled, “Ow that hurt! Show mercy!”

 Rotsala used a drop of his blood and the podium exploded in green smoke.

 Sir Anguis emerged from the crater, arm shaking, fangs shattered. Rotsala waved a hand and the snake was healed.

 “Shoot me with your ray gun,” said a metal egg beside him. Sir Anguis face-planted on the ground.

 Rotsala looked on, sadly while everyone else stared, stunned.

 “Anyone hungry?” Rotsala asked turning around. “Please don’t make me cook jambalaya. It’s way too spicy and it nearly killed me! I much prefer tea and sugared strawberries, oh the way they melt in my mouth… but anyway, you could say the kick brought me straight into Heaven.”

 Rotsala lead the way back to the hotel, the group following him.

 “Yes sir, new changes are about to take place. Now…”

 Rotsala waved his finger at the lit up sign above the glass, gem-encrusted building on the roof.

 The sign changed from “Hazbin Hotel” to “Haven Hotel.”

 “Stay tuned.” He finished with low whimpers.

[bittysvalentines]

Careful Fear and Dead Devotion

To: @happyzimm

From: @doggernaut /RabbitRunnah

Rating: T, for mentions of alcohol.

Relationship: Jack Zimmermann/Eric Bittle

Characters: Jack Zimmermann, Eric Bittle, Bad Bob Zimmermann, Kent Parson, original child character

Tags: Jack Zimmermann, Zimbits, Jack Zimmermann character study

Happy Valentine’s Day, @happyzimm! I hope you enjoy this little Jack Zimmermann character study. I tried to incorporate some of the other things you asked for as well.

i.

Jack Zimmermann is five years old, and his feet don’t touch the ground.

He’s sitting in a hard, plastic chair at a table for two while Papa waits in line to order doughnuts. There are two Papas in this doughnut shop — the one standing in line, and the one on the poster behind the counter.

The Papa in line is wearing his home clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, running shoes. The Papa on the wall is wearing work clothes — his Pens jersey but not his helmet — and holding a doughnut decorated with black and yellow sprinkles.

Even though the real Papa’s back is turned to him, it feels like he’s watching Jack.

When Maman takes him to get doughnuts after his swim lesson she always takes him to the shop across the street from the rec center, the one with yellow tables and the smiling man behind the counter who always hands Jack his chocolate old-fashioned doughnut and cinnamon sugar doughnut hole before he orders. The one that does not have a picture of Papa on the wall.

But Maman is working in California — Jack has never been to California, but he knows it’s a place people go to work, because Papa goes there too — so Papa had to take Jack to his swim lesson today. Papa doesn’t know Maman always takes Jack to the other doughnut shop, and when he told Papa this is the wrong one it was too late. They were already here.

The boy behind the counter is much younger than the man who works at the other doughnut shop. He must be friends with Papa because he greets him by name and talks to him longer than he talked to the other people in line. Papa knows a lot of people.

“Told you that wouldn’t take long, Jacky.” Papa sets a sprinkle doughnut with white icing on a paper napkin in front of Jack and opens his chocolate milk for him.

Jack frowns and picks at the black and yellow sprinkles on the doughnut. He doesn’t like the colors, or the way they feel in his teeth when he chews them.

“What’s wrong?” Papa asks. “Not hungry?”

Jack is hungry. He’s always hungry after his swim lesson. He picks off a teeny tiny piece of doughnut — a part that isn’t touching white icing or colored sprinkles — and sticks it in his mouth. He eats the entire cake part of the doughnut this way while Papa eats his maple bar and an apple fritter. When he’s finished, all that’s left is a ring of sticky icing and sprinkles.

“All finished?” Papa asks when he notices Jack is no longer eating. “Do you want another?”

Jack thinks. It would be rude to ask for another doughnut, but Papa is offering. “Can I have chocolate?” he asks.

“Hey, Paulie!” Papa’s voice is loud in the mostly-empty shop as he waves to get the attention of the guy behind the counter. “Can I get a chocolate doughnut for my boy?”

Paulie comes around to their table and hands the doughnut to Jack. Jack whispers a “thank you” as Papa hands Paulie some money and tells him to “keep the change.” He winks and smiles, and it’s the same smile as the Papa on the poster behind the counter.

Jack takes a bite of the new doughnut and chews. The chocolate is rich and sweet. He takes another bite and swings his legs as Papa smiles at him.

ii.

Jack is 18, and he is so close to having it all.

“Drink up!”

The bottle Kent presses into Jack’s hand is cold and smooth except for the label, damp and wrinkled from condensation. Jack doesn’t like these parties and he doesn’t like the taste of alcohol. It burns on the way down and tastes like spite, a bitter, caustic thing that burns inside of him whenever Papa offhandedly remarks that Kent just might go first. Jack doesn’t like the way that feels, or the way he feels for feeling that way. But he likes the way he feels after a few beers, the way it makes him loose and brave. Kent says it makes him more fun. So Jack takes a pull of his beer and grimaces, quickly twisting his mouth into a smile when he catches Kent glancing his way.

One beer makes Jack loose enough that his smile comes more easily.

Two beers and the world starts to shimmer around the edges, suffusing everything with a nice haze that makes him feel buoyant and bold. When he’s on the ice he feels loose and free, not heavy and grounded the way he feels as soon as he removes his skates. On the ice he does the right things and the words come easily; people smile and cheer his name. Two beers in and Jack feels closer to the way he feels on the ice, his ever-present anxiety and self-consciousness fading into something palatable.

Three beers is the magic number. He can laugh at jokes made at his expense about that shot he missed and flirt with the girls who somehow always know where the team is partying. With three beers in him, Jack’s hand can find Kent’s in the dark and he doesn’t worry that he’s not really this brave. He doesn’t worry about any of it.

“Zimms! There’s girls here!” Rusty, yelling from the other side of the room, is anything but subtle. Though these girls, with their loud, exaggerated laughter, don’t seem like they value subtlety anyway. One of them catches his eye, a small blonde who doesn’t look away when Jack catches her staring.

Jack runs his thumb back and forth over the smooth label, wearing away a patch in the center. Bits of paper bead up and cling to it, turn gritty under his thumb. When he tries to brush them away they just stick to him.

“Awww, is Zimms gonna score again? Score on the ice, score off the ice, is that how it works?”

“Shut up.” Jack elbows Kent.

“Make me.”

Jack swallows hard, suddenly remembering exactly what he did to make Kent shut up last night, and the night before. He can’t do this right now. He shouldn’t do this ever. The one thing that matters, the only thing that matters, according to Jack’s father, is THE DRAFT.

That’s how he thinks of it, in all caps.

Tonight when Jack counted out his pills, there were seven missing. He doesn’t know how it happened. He’s good with numbers, at knowing the score at all times. He remembers the shots he made and the shots he missed, keeps a running tally in his head. He memorizes stats. Not just his, but those of every first round draft pick of the last five years, and those of every guy who has even been mentioned as a first round pick this year. He is constantly calculating his odds.

Jack is good with numbers. How has he lost track of the pills he’s taken?

Somebody pries the beer bottle, now warm, from Jack’s hand and replaces it with a new one. Jack didn’t even realize he’d finished the first. Jack takes another drink.

He is so close to having it all, and he is so close to losing it all.

*****

iii

Jack is 24, and when he swiftly pays for Bittle’s coffee, telling his teammate he’s “good for it,” he realizes he is. It’s not just that he can afford it because he’s about to sign an NHL contract. It’s also because Bittle is his friend, and Jack enjoys doing nice things for his friends.

Somehow, and Jack still cannot explain how though he suspects it has a bit to do with Bittle’s own grit and generosity, Bittle has become one of Jack’s best friends.

Checking practice, a morning workout that it turns out they both needed, isn’t really necessary anymore. These days, the early ice time with Bittle is just an excuse for an extra workout. Sometimes they even goof off more than they practice, a concept Jack would have found sacrilegious a year ago. They race each other around the rink, skating faster and faster until their breath comes in aching gasps. Or Bittle will pull out a jump, tentative and imprecise. “I know it’s not impressive,” Bittle says self-deprecatingly, “but just imagine if I had my figure skates.”

Bittle is wrong. Jack is very impressed. Somehow those words catch in his throat when he tries to voice them so he just nods.

Afterward, they get coffee. Jack drinks his black and bitter. “Like your soul,” Bittle once joked. Jack used to think that was true, but now he thinks that maybe he’s softened. More and more, he feels the way Bittle’s milky latte looks: lighter, cooler, sweeter.

Jack takes a sip of Bittle’s latte by accident and ... it’s not unpleasant. There’s an underlying smoky sweetness Jack’s own black coffee is missing, a richness that makes him yearn for a second sip before he hands it back. It’s not the worst thing.

“Good?” Bittle asks, eager and expectant, like Jack’s answer will reveal the secrets of the universe.

“It’s not disappointing,” Jack concedes.

“Well, for five dollars I should think not!” Bittle scoffs as they head back out into the cold.

Bittle wears gloves in 40 degrees and pulls his toque down low over his ears, and sometimes Jack catches himself wondering what it would be like if he could provide that warmth. He decides, when Bitty gives him a friendly hip check, that maybe he’s getting there.

*****

iv

Jack is still 24, and he’s in what his boyfriend just called “Southern-Fried Hell.”

Okay, not really. Objectively, Bitty’s MooMaw’s place isn’t bad at all. It’s the fact that he’s here, sweating profusely and trying to politely choke down a plate of terrible coleslaw, while every single Bittle and Phelps in the state of Georgia attempts to engage in polite conversation when all he wants to do is find a private corner where he can make out with Bitty.

Jack doesn’t even like coleslaw. It’s slimy and stringy and this particular coleslaw is oddly sweet yet somehow bitter and acidic at the same time. There’s pepper in it? Pepper, and something gritty that might be sugar or possibly dirt. Jack hopes it’s sugar.

From the other side of the yard, Bitty catches his eye and hides a smile behind a slice of watermelon as Jack explains his upcoming training schedule to some uncle or cousin or neighbor. He’s been introduced to so many people today, and it’s exhausting. Jack genuinely wants to get to know Bitty’s family, but he also wants Bitty, and only one of those things is possible at the moment.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bitty laughs as he cards his fingers through Jack’s hair later that night. “You did not have to eat Aunt Connie’s coleslaw. Bless her heart, she tries, but we all stopped pretending we liked it years ago.”

“I wanted to be polite,” Jack says. “Make a good first impression. My parents always made me try a little of everything at their parties.”

Bitty’s face does something complicated, a look equal parts pity and irritation. “Jack. I promise you nobody in this family is gonna think less of you because you don’t eat Aunt Connie’s coleslaw, or Uncle Hank’s ribs, or Judy’s potato salad. I’m not gonna think less of you. It’s enough that you’re here.”

Bitty presses a little closer to Jack, and Jack’s body registers every point of skin-on-skin contact: elbows, hands, thighs, calves. Bitty’s bare foot where it tangles with Jack’s. It feels like there’s an electric current running through each point, vibrating at a frequency only they can feel.

Or it could just be the humidity. Georgia in July is really fucking humid.

Overhead, the fireworks show is starting, far enough away that they can see but not hear the spectacle.

“Promise me,” Bitty says, corners of his mouth quirking upward, “that next year you’ll skip the coleslaw.”

It should feel scary, to make that promise when this is still so new, but Jack can clearly see the years spooling out ahead of them, years of avoiding Aunt Connie’s coleslaw and making small talk with the strangers he met today until they’re no longer strangers.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bitty sighs happily and rests his head on Jack’s chest, a pleasant weight that reminds Jack of everything he’s found since the day he lost it all.

*****

v

Jack is 36, and some days he feels every day of it. His shoulders and knees ache more often than not, especially when a four-year old is perched on top of those aching shoulders. When they walk into Bitty’s shop he gently lifts Evie from his shoulders and sets her down in front of the bakery case so she can look at the day’s treats.

“Chocolate old-fashioned?” Bitty’s sliding the doughnut across the counter before Jack orders. He knows his husband. Never once, in all the time he’s owned this shop, has Jack ordered one of the novelty doughnuts he keeps on the menu even though there’s nothing really “novelty” about Skittles or Hot Cheetos on top of a doughnut these days. They’re a holdover from the previous owner, who made his name creating Instagrammable confections. Bitty’s taken his original recipes in a different direction, experimenting with natural food dyes and delicate floral infusions. His creations have gotten some attention in local foodie circles, but most people come in for the classics.

Jack still doesn’t eat sprinkle doughnuts. The sprinkles, even the organic ones Bitty uses, still stick in his teeth and make them feel funny. But Evie loves sprinkle doughnuts. She especially loves it when her daddy hands one to her and takes a break to sit with them while she eats it.

“How was your swim lesson, sweetheart?” Bitty asks, a soft sigh escaping as he sits for what is probably the first time all morning. Jack listens to the two chatter happily as he picks at his own doughnut, chewing slowly.

Jack remembers sitting in a shop like this with his own mother, and — occasionally — his father. He and Maman would stop at the doughnut shop across from his swim lesson for “a little treat,” as she liked to call it. They always went to that one instead of the chain shop Papa had an endorsement deal with; it was a long time before Jack realized Maman intentionally chose the smaller shop because of its anonymity.

“That’s Papa.” Evie points at the poster on the wall behind Bitty, at a smiling Jack holding a cake doughnut topped with sprinkles, Falcs blue and yellow. After the last Cup Bitty had the idea to recreate the advertisement Bad Bob did years ago, and with time Jack agreed that it could be fun. Somehow, the photographer managed to capture Jack at the exact moment he saw Bitty and Evie walk in. Bitty says it’s the most natural photo Jack has ever taken.

“That is your papa,” Bitty says. “Remember, we took the pictures together and talked about how we were going to put the one of just Papa up here in the shop because his team won the Cup? How does he look?”

Evie take a bite, swallows as she tilts her head and considers the Jack on the wall. Suddenly, he recalls with perfect clarity what it felt like to be four or five and see another version of his father in a public space. The way it made him feel proud and shy and scared for reasons he couldn’t articulate.

“Happy,” Evie finally declares, swinging her legs and beaming up at her fathers. “I think he looks happy.”

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

The Ballroom

Ao3,  MasterPost

Relationships: Roceit

I know how to write Roman, in theory. In practice, it takes hours to get right. And yet, I love him. Oh! And I actually remembered to insert the italics this time, so, you’re welcome :3.

Warnings: Self-Doubt, Delusions/Hallucinations (they r not that bad), slight Trust Issues (Janus, obvs), Established Relationships, First ‘i love you’, Mentions of Greek Mythology, References to Musicals (Hadestown Hadestown Hadestown!! they sing Wedding Song together ok??), and I vaguely imply that Roman has ADHD because of course I do. 

Word count: 2,443

Every side had a room. Duh, common knowledge. The inhabitants of the Mindscape constantly barged in and out of each other’s domains without so much as a knock, usually to no more reaction than an irritated sigh. It wasn’t like it was a big deal to anyone, much like an actual family. If a trait wanted absolute privacy, well, they always had somewhere else to retreat to.

Thus brings us to the Extensions. It was well understood that you never visited one without express permission from the side who owned it. They were entirely personal settings, specific to the ‘individual’ that used it. The Extensions shifted and changed over time, just as each side’s representation, outlook, and even definition changed, but there had been a certain consistency upheld throughout the last three or four years. 

Roman’s was a theater, beautiful and ornate with a high-ceiling and perfect lighting, which of course always followed him. Logan’s was a planetarium, allowing the user to view any part of the night sky, and providing essentially all known information on astrology for those that wanted it. Patton had a garden, always filled with fresh produce and hundreds of different types of flowers; humble fountains and birdbaths were dotted along the narrow brick path that ran through the large space, at which he could often be found resting with a bunch of chrysanthemums. Remus’ was, predictably, a museum filled with almost innumerable odd and grotesque objects and devices from history- it also served as an art gallery, on occasion, offering a strange sort of beauty. Virgil’s had changed the most over the years, but it had seemed to settle on something of a vinyl record library, complete with bean bag chairs to lounge in while you listened: perfectly fitting for the hipster emo that he was at heart.

And that left Janus. Of course, no one besides the snake himself had ever seen his Extension, and for a good long time he’d intended it to stay that way. It was his business and nobody else’s- why should he want to invite someone into such a personal environment? 

But then he went and made the mistake of falling for just the someone to answer that rhetorical question. Someone who would surely be overjoyed to see it, and whom Janus loved dearly enough to maybe possibly let him.

It was a ballroom. Obviously Roman would love something like that. 

When Janus first began contemplating showing his boyfriend the Extension, he’d wanted to do something along the lines of a masquerade. He quickly deemed it excessive for Roman’s first visit, though. Just a standard setting, then! But, no, Janus didn’t want to have any of his prop people distracting his very easily distracted partner, so that was out of the question. So he would stay simple. Simple didn’t get a big reaction. Simple could be brushed under the rug if it went somehow awry (and was also less likely to go awry). Simple let him breathe.

Yet somehow it remained terrifying. Honestly, Deceit was second-guessing letting Roman in even as he was leading them down the lengthy hallway, feeling regret clawing at him with each muffled thump of his heeled boots on the carpet. 

“I want to show you something.”

“Oh? And what would that be, Loveliest Lie of All?” 

“You’ll see when we get there. Come along, before I change my mind.”

Janus extended a gloved hand, which Roman took with enthusiasm. He was raring to go without even the slightest idea what they were doing. It was a hopelessly endearing quality. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it but half as much as you.”

“Only half?” Janus teased, narrowly avoiding returning the ‘L’ word, yet again (he wanted to, God did he want to, but the word died on his tongue every time).

Roman didn’t bat an eye at his deflection, merely leaning forward with a sappy smile.

“Naturally; nothing can match you, my dear.”

Yeah, no, he was committed now. This was, without a doubt, happening. Janus continued to lead his boyfriend along the hall, fielding all questions until they finally came upon the door. It was far taller than the ones around it, colored a bright canary-yellow. The trait took a deep breath and turned to Roman, whose face was bright with recognition as to what kind of entryway this was.

“This is your-”

“Yes.”

“You’re really going to show me-”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Roman traced a hand down the door frame, as if it would shatter at a firmer touch. His eyes were wide with excitement, a grin stretching across his lips.

Janus felt as though his stomach were doing cartwheels.

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” It was a genuine question; Deceit was open to suggestions for reasons to wait. But Roman clearly hadn’t picked up on the hesitance, too caught up in his own exuberance. 

Janus took a deep breath. He pulled the door open, and the two sides were immediately enveloped by brilliant golden light.

The ballroom was a showy place, which mightn’t have seemed to be the deceitful trait’s nature, at first glance- but, oh, did Janus adore just a dash of gaudiness. 

Roman already knew this about him. Roman knew a lot of things that took a careful eye and a lot of trust. 

Janus took the first step forward, holding Creativity’s hand in his and leading him into the baroque construct. The door snapped shut behind them, leaving them in glowing light cast down from crystalline chandeliers. Above them arched the ceiling, displaying murals of greek myths in perfect detail. The paintings danced and shifted around each other, even moving down the walls, as they played out dozens of ancient stories. It was like an animated oil painting, however impossible that would sound to a real human. 

Soft music filled the ballroom, drifting around the pair. Janus usually dressed his Extension up with fake guests; people of his own design for him to talk and laugh with. It felt safe, reassuring even, to be completely in control of things, including your compatriots. But now, the room was empty, save for him and his real guest. Janus turned his gaze back to Roman, trying to disguise his nervousness.

“Well?” 

Roman crosses his arms over his chest. He clicks his tongue, giving the surroundings a sweeping glance. At best, he’s unimpressed, at worst, he’s outright disdainful. 

“All that buildup, really, for this? What is even the point of such an Extension, Janus?” Roman’s intricately designed shoes clack against the hardwood floor as he further examines the room. He stops in the center, whirling to face Janus. “I’d hoped that this big reveal would make up for all of your other failings as a partner, but I suppose you’re just fated to disappoint me! And it took you months to show me this waste of architecture? Now, that’s just pathetic.”

With a scoff, Roman leaves. 

The scene Janus had unconsciously played came to an abrupt end. He staggered, blinking his eyes back into focus. Roman wasn’t looking down at him, gaze cold and unwavering; rather, he was spinning around the room as he drank in the decorations. He quite looked like he’d never had a malicious thought in his entire life, joyful as he was.

“Oh, Jay, this is gorgeous! Not as much as you, of course- but it is just astounding,” he beamed at Janus, who offered a smirk in return and rolled his mismatched eyes (though he could feel the human side of his face flush bright at the compliment). Before he had a proper response, however, Roman’s gaze caught on something behind him. The trait crossed the room in just a few strides. 

“Is that…?”

Janus turned on his heel and followed, his eyes landing on the painting that distracted his prince. The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, a colorful-yet-accurate depiction, ‘painted’ in a somewhat impressionist style. It was easily one of Janus’ favorite myths; evidently Roman was a fan just the same. 

“I’m glad you like it,” the honesty was bitter on his tongue. It was well worth it. “I find mythology inspiring, to say the least.” 

Creativity ran his hand along the mural, a giddy laugh escaping him. Without the slightest of warnings, he spun around and grabbed one of Janus’ hands in both of his.

“Lover, tell me, if you can- who’s gonna buy the wedding bands? Times being what they are. Hard and getting harder all the time,” his singing was elated and bubbly, the lilt of one well-familiar with the lyrics he recited. Janus laughed and leaned into his partner. 

“You want to be Eurydice?”

“Just play along!” 

Janus sighed, far too fond for the exasperation he’d been aiming for, and pulled Roman in close. He settled his hands at The Prince’s hips, leading them in a mostly formless dance.

“Lover, when I sing my song, all the rivers sing along. And they're gonna break their banks for me, to lay their gold around my feet. All a-flashing in the pan, all to fashion for your hand. The river’s gonna give us the wedding bands,” once, Roman had told him his voice was honey, slow and sweet. That conversation came back to him, bringing a lanquidity to his singing just so he could soak in the lovestruck expression it earned him. 

“Lover, tell me, if you're able, who's gonna lay the wedding table? Times being what they are. Dark and getting darker all the time.”

Their simply patterned steps led them in wide circles around the room. Janus subconsciously let the jazz that usually rang across his ballroom slip away, only to be replaced with the instrumentals to their ballad. 

“Lover, when I sing my song, All the trees gonna sing along, And bend their branches down to me, To lay their fruit around my feet. The almond and the apple, And the sugar from the maple. The trees gonna lay the wedding table.” 

And so on they continued for the song’s duration- taking their turns with the lyrics, eyes only for each other despite the beauty of their surroundings.

When Janus reached the last line, he drew out the note until his voice faded to nothing more than a lingering hum of the tune. Softly, his standard background music returned to accompany them as the remnants of their duet slipped away. 

They eased to a gentle sway. Roman dropped his head onto Janus’ shoulder with a sigh.

“Thank you.”

“What for, my dear?”

“Bringing me here. Trusting me,” Creativity mumbled into his collar. 

“Of course,” Janus whispered, letting go of the side’s hips to properly wrap his arms around him. 

Roman raised his head, just enough to look Deceit in the eyes. 

“I love you,” he announced, open and honest and completely unexpectant- everything that Janus wasn’t. It was the same way he always said it; with a fierceness as though he was proving his point in an argument, yet somehow remaining gentle and caring. A mere statement, one that never even hinted at a need for response. It simply was, a fact thrown into the world with reckless abandon. 

Nothing terrified Janus more. But, between the duet and Roman’s reaction to the Extension, Janus felt something a bit more foreign than fear welling in him. 

Bravery.

“I love you, too.”

Roman pulls back from their embrace, a cruel laugh falling from his lips. He fixes Janus with a patronizing glare.

“Oh, you love me, do you? You sure know how to show it,” he taunts, backing further away from the snake. There is something dark that glints behind his eyes. “I only tell you that I love you a million times a day, to radio silence, and it’s only now you deign to reciprocate? Barely any fanfare, as though such a confession alone makes up for all the doubt you’ve brought me?”

Janus tries to speak, to make use of and flaunt his eloquence, to orchestrate those perfect sentences to craft himself some semblance of a defense. But all he can do is choke. 

“I don’t know why I ever expected better from you. It’s obvious that you can’t change, Deceit.”

And Roman leaves. 

Except he didn’t. It wasn’t real. Janus squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, blinking them open to see the real Roman- who, thankfully, seemed to be too preoccupied to take note of his… episode.

Roman was wide-eyed, completely still in Janus’ arms. He tilted back, and for a petrifying second the deceitful side thought he really was going to let go, but thankfully he didn’t go far. The Prince gripped tightly to Janus’ shoulders, holding on as if to keep himself steady. He let out a shaky laugh- soft and reverent and nothing like his nightmare version’s cackle. Because he wasn’t that, despite what Deceit’s mistrusting mind would try to convince him. 

“You said it,” Roman said at last, his voice small but his smile wide.

“I’m aware,” finally, am I right? Janus bit his tongue on that. I’m sorry, he couldn’t find the strength to say. I mean it, I’ve meant it for so long, please believe me, also went unspoken. What he settled on was:

“This is the easiest thing in the world for me.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Why? You tell me-” a shiver chased down his back, “-you tell me you love me a million times a day.”

“Yes, I do that. I suppose it’s just in my nature, after all. Regardless, it would be wrong of me to expect you act like me, because you’re you. And ‘you’ happens to be someone I love very, very much.”

Janus let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

“... I love you, too.”

Roman chuckled, bonking his nose against Janus’ affectionately.

“Two in one day? I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

“Shut up, I’m only to make up for lost time. Don’t get used to it.”

“Of course not, my love.” 

Janus sighed- relief, mostly, but infatuation crept its way into the sound. He picked up humming to the light melodies that played, resuming the swaying movements that had been forgotten in the face of confessions. Roman followed his lead, his grin delightfully infectious. 

“We should get back soon,” the artistic trait admitted, sounding very much like he considered it someone else’s problem- one that he did not intend on concerning himself with, at that. Janus hummed, feigning deep thought. He let his head fall against Roman’s shoulder, eyes falling closed as he responded. 

“Just one more song, Darling?” 

“Oh, if you insist.”

“Insist I do.” 

Roman stayed.

@shrimp-crockpot

[masterweaverx]

Me: “I should probably be writing so I don’t get so desperate at the last minute that--”

My brain: “The El Goonish Shive characters as students of Beacon academy MAKE IT HAPPEN GO GO GO!”

Me: “FINE. I’ll draw notes, but I’m not necessarily doing the story!”

So anyway here’s some notes for a story I’m not necessarily doing.

Team SPET (Spectral), led by Grace

Grace Sciuridae:

Faunus, Vale origin. Squirrel tail, “antennae” forelocks, and clawed fingernails/toenails (not actual claws, she just let them grow out.

Emblem: An acorn, generally worn as a pin on her sleeve.

Outfit is a loose long-sleeved shirt in green, black pants, bandoleer belt with a sheathe for her weapon and pouches, and no shoes/gloves.

Beacon uniform adjustments: no shoes, and she doesn’t wear the neck ribbon thing, but otherwise standard girl’s outfit.

Semblance: Extensorary. Grace can extend her aura to feel anything in the area, manipulate objects, or simulate flight.

Weapon: Shade Tail. A zweihander that splits into two bladed whips. Possible Dust effects.

Backstory: Kidnapped as a child by Damien, who in this universe is an absolutely insane faunus-supremacist that thinks he can control the Grimm, Grace lived several unkind years in the forests of Vale before managing to escape and arriving at Beacon academy. Ozpin let her in as a student mostly to provide her the protection of paperwork, since from what she’s describing Damien might be tied to the Bigger Secret of the world. She becomes partners with Tedd during initiation. Her upbringing does leave her mostly the same as EGS prime canon, ignorance of all social norms included, but she has an especial dislike of the creatures of Grimm due to Damien’s madness. Also she doesn’t get racism. Period.

Susan Pompoms:

Human, Argus origin. Appears mostly the same as EGS canon, with exception of single blonde side-braid.

Emblem: Venus symbol, used as a belt buckle.

Outfit is a dark blue longcoat has straps on the back, through which backpack straps are run to hold onto her Big Box O’ Stuff. Wears blue pants held up by belt and going into calf-high boots, black leotard, and black three-finger half gloves. Shoulder armor and a metal backbrace.

Beacon uniform adjustments: Boy’s uniform instead of girl’s, but otherwise standard.

Semblance: Portation. Susan can mark any container as hers and teleport whatever's in it to herself and back.

Weapon: Morrígna. A warhammer that can split into a sword and mallet. The mallet can morph into a one-handed gun.

Backstory: The early parts of the backstory would remain basically the same, but she doesn’t meet Nanase until Beacon and has only a passing familiarity with Sarah as ‘Oh yeah, her family comes to Argus sometimes.’ But she would have a friendship/rivalry with Pyrrha, which might lead to some interesting interactions with Jaune. She winds up partnered with Elliot during initiation. And, upon realizing how completely unaware of social norms sheltered Grace is, would be very vocal about certain people not abusing her.

Elliot Dunkel:

Human, Mantle origin. Literally looks the same as canon, because why break a good look?

Emblem: An oval with some abstract lines, seen as a symbol on his shirt.

Outfit is a White cape and black crop-top, black pants and white shoes, belts in an x-shape over his belly with pouches for carrying things.

Beacon uniform adjustments: he does not wear the white undershirt. That’s it. The jacket’s buttoned up, but he doesn’t wear the undershirt.

Semblance: Soul Fury. Elliot can draw on the negativity of others, such as pain and fear, in order to increase his own physical attack strength. He has trained this to a degree that he is capable of jumping to intense heights.

Weapons: Honor and Justice. Arm-mounted bladed tonfas, capable of shooting grappling hooks from the wrist to either drag himself to a location or to bring a foe to him. Used to be part of the Four Ideals, but leg-mounted equivalents went to Ellen.

Backstory: Saved Tedd from some bullies during one of his visits to Mantle, became close friends. Otherwise standard backstory. Some people might note his childhood doesn’t mention his twin sister, and he’ll say there was a whole money-legality thing until recently. Anybody with a truth-sensing semblance will know he’s lying. The truth, however, is Very Classified. Like seriously you don’t know how classified it is.

Tedd Verres:

Human, Atlas origin. Left half of his hair is the original ‘long hair’, right half is the new ‘pixie cut’.

Emblem: A circle with three lines extending from it, which is placed on his equipment.

Outfit is a light blue longcoat with internal pockets (and everyone is going to comment on that since none of the other characters have pockets), light blue pants, black shirt and boots. Also some purple armor around his chest that is slightly rounded and matching greaves on his legs.

Beacon uniform adjustments: wears the girl’s outfit, but with a tie.

Semblance: Copyscan. Tedd can identify other people's semblances with some observation, and make limited-use copies of them with physical contact.

Weapon: Convergence. A gauntlet with an extendable shield, which also stores copies of semblances. Ted also has an energy pistol called Expedience.

Backstory: Tedd’s dad still works for a coverup agency, but now it’s the RWBY-canon ‘Keep Magic and the existence of Salem an utter secret’ cover-up agency. Tedd was brought into this against his father’s wishes when General Ironwood realized the potency of his semblance, but this also gave him access to a few classified doohickies such as this fused universe’s version of the Dewitchery Diamond. Going to Beacon is meant as a ‘field test’ of Tedd as an agent, at least according to Ironwood, but there’s also his dad wanting him to have friends that aren’t involved in all the top secret drama. Also yes, he does have a copy of Ellen’s gender change spell in Convergence which she willingly refreshes for him, and he will sometimes spend time as a girl. (Possible connection to May Marigold down the line?)

Team STNE (Stone), led by Sarah

Sarah Brown:

Human, Mistral origin. The only real difference is that her hairband now sports fancy curls and flanges and also it’s made of bronze as a sort of informal helmet.

Emblem: a double-sided question mark which is engraved into her arm guards.

Outfit is a pink knee-length dress, belt with four pouches radially aligned. Armored boots, greaves, and with her shoulders, all bronze.

Beacon uniform adjustments: none, but she still wears her headgear.

Semblance: Lookout. Sarah can instantly take in details about her environment to a highly detailed degree, with a range that extends the more aura she pours into it. While she can examine things that might be hidden, i.e. the inside of a closed book, she cannot change anything.

Weapon: Zauberei. Spear/staff that can shift into a rifle and split into a pistol and dagger. It sort of looks like a giant paintbrush?

Backstory: An ordinary Mistral combat student who went up against Pyrrha Nikos and Susan during some combat tournaments and got a case of starry eyes for both of them. Upon hearing they were going to Beacon, she decided to go too because why not? What she doesn’t realize is that she’s going to be put in charge of a team of Secrets and Drama. She winds up partnered with Justin during initiation.

Justin Tolkiberry:

Human, Vale origin. Aside from a very fancy set of earrings in one ear, he looks about the same as his canon counterpart.

Emblem: Abstract fire, which is displayed prominantly on the back of his gi.

Outfit is an open orange gi with lots of red fire patterns and buckled belts around the ankles, thighs, biceps, and forearms. Also sandles. And he does have a belt around the pants with a few pouches.

Beacon uniform adjustments: Wears sandles instead of shoes.

Semblance: Not known, exactly. Justin knows he can ignore damage sometimes, but the details are unclear.

Weapon: Dashing Delver. A rectangle-headed shovel that turns into a tower shield/sled.

Backstory: Basically the same as canon Justin, except that because Remnant is more accepting of LGBT+ people overall he wasn’t bullied and was just very irritated at Mellissa. Also Elliot and Nanase were on entirely different continents so there’s that. He’ll be the snarky rational one when everything about his team is revealed. 

Nanase Kitsune:

Faunus, Menagerie origin. Has naturally dual-colored hair to match her naturally dual-colored fox ears.

Emblem: A heart-shaped fox head thing she wears on her shirt.

Outfit is a black jacket, yellow croptop with emblem in red, red skirt with yellow trim, red armbands, black shoes, and a pouch belt that hangs off one hip instead of being used as a belt.

Beacon Uniform Adjustment: She keeps her armbands.

Semblance: Fairy Companion. Nanase can summon fairy companions to herself or anyone she has an emotional connection with. These fairies run off her subconscious unless she deliberately controls them, and can be used to communicate, scout, or detonate as weapons. Their size is controllable, ranging from ‘hold in one hand’ to ‘outright as big as Nanase herself’, though they always appear to be wearing what Nanase is at time of summoning. Larger fairies take proportionally more aura to summon.

Weapon: Faewind. A backpack with four cable-attached fairy wings. Each wing is a bladed arm/leg shield with inbuilt nozzles that serve either as short-range blasters or a jetpack when retracted.

Backstory: The Kitsunes are a very important family in Menagerie, with a lot of political clout, and Nanase is expected to reflect that as her mother sends her to Beacon in order to indirectly represent Menagerie at the Vytal tournament. Nanase, however, is using this first chance to not have to be a Perfect Icon to actually search for her own identity. She becomes partners with Ellen during initiation, and picks up on how Ellen is really not comfortable talking about her own past. There’s a slow gradual growth of trust going on, and Nanase slowly comes to realize she might love this girl.

Ellen Dunkel:

Human(ish), Mantle origin. Looks the same as canon because of course she does.

Emblem: A rectangular mirror with a suspiciously familiar diamond shape in the center, painted on her shirt.

Outfit: Where Elliot wears a cape, Ellen wears an open coat. But otherwise it’s basically the same, if adjusted for female.

Beacon Uniform adjustments: She doesn’t wear the socks. That’s it. She wears the shoes but not the socks.

Semblance: Shift Beam. Ellen is capable of generating a beam of light from her palm. If the target has no active aura, it is impacted with a degree of force relative to the amount of aura input. If a target does have aura, the beam can cause temporary physical alteration; Ellen is still learning the ins and outs of this, but she can usually make other bodies more like hers (i.e. physically female). This is noted to be unusual, since no other known semblance outright shapeshifts people. Consequently, she tries to avoid using it in ways where this can be observed.

Weapon: Courage and Virtue. Leg tonfas. Complete with jump-jets. Used to be Elliot's.

Backstory: Officially she’s just the long-lost twin of Elliot’s who recently got back out of the foster care system. Unofficially, the dewitchery diamond exists in this fused universe and Ellen has to keep her origin a secret because if Salem heard about her hooooo boy! The original plan was for her, Elliot, and Tedd to all be on the same team so they could protect each other but she wound up partnering with Nanase and then on a seperate team and now Ellen is conflicted between explaining her origins to her partner and not wanting people to freak out. But she does slowly start to explain her various quirks, as people (especially Nanase) start to notice stuff about her.

The Plot:

I dunno, team SPET and STNE interact with teams RWBY and JNPR and get involved in the world-spanning conspiracy? My brain is saying this is enough for now.

[acrylicblanks3]

Wonderfully Fit Kids -- Summer Crafts

acrylic blanks

I need creative kids! I adore creating things using my creative young people! I love that your creative kids will grow up into magnificent problem solvers! ALTHOUGH I do not enjoy unrealistic expectations concerning our creative period.

acrylic blanks

This summer the objective is to have fun, rss feed your children's paper hearts with creative functions and keep the application simple! The most important take into account creating a creative action for kids can be that they feel successful-bottom line! You don't just want to pick a project as a consequence of what YOU want them to make. It is all about these individuals being kids. Therefore it WILL be a little sloppy, it WON'T look ideal, and you may not be capable to hold their curiosity as long as you'd like, Nevertheless, you NEED to do it! So why? Because so much your kids' lives usually are scheduled, structured, plugged-in, and "multiple choice" that the value involving preserving some good ol' creative time, when it is ALL about all of them and the magical possibilities within each of their own minds, is PRECIOUS! I would argue it does not take single most important element we can do for the kids. We want these to grow into grown persons who love to overcome a problem, who have fun in the face of discouragement along with who confidently generate change! This is why everyone raise creatively meet kids!

Here are a top five summer season crafts. I am using you off the lure. You don't need fancy items. You don't need to spend big money. You don't have to worry about care (it doesn't exist). All you have to do is usually provide the raw materials and the backyard kitchen table. Then, you can terry your back together with compliment yourself with raising future problem-solving, optimistic, & stirred adults!

#1 Tie-dye

You can't beat this! I recommend buying a tie-dye kit. Jacquard helps make some great, simple packages that have everything you need! This colors will extremely stay vibrant (just follow the directions). Now, you could accomplish t-shirts (you are able to do cute tanks for ladies, etc . ) AND ALSO what about tie-dying white colored beach towels, bandannas, or cover-ups. It is possible to tie-dye almost anything! DRESS YOURSELF IN gloves, or both hands will stay multi-colored designed for days and tie-dye outside. When you are accomplished, take the kids on the pool or flip the sprinkler!

#2 Artsy Summer Bag

This is truly entertaining for ANY age! We created some of these hand bags with my young ones when they were merely 1, 2 and additionally 3! All you need is mostly a plain tote case (even a coloring is fine), several masking tape so that you can mask off the ideas for painting space, and polymer-bonded paint (it's most nontoxic ). Merely place the mp3 on the side of the carrier in whatever pattern you want. If you have small kids, you can recording paper to cover other tote so all their creativity stays "in the lines" (can you believe I am announcing that?!?! ). This process is what I actually call "organized chaos". Paint the entire part of the next bag and then determine which you like the top. Then, give young kids one color at any given time. If you wanted to benefit from all colors, for instance , start with the lightest first and progress: yellow, orange, white, blue, purple, efficient. Or stay in a particular color family and so the colors don't get "mushed" into muddy hues. Paint with green, green and green. Let them make use of a paint brush, ones own fingers (this could be the beauty of summer season craft time-it's out in the open! ), or plastic stamps, sponges, or other things that is laying approximately.

Here is what you do but if the kids don't have a tough attention span. Purely make it a many occasion craft. Possibly your 3 12 months old only causes it to become through the yellow in addition to green paint, nevertheless, you really want to see the azure on there. Well, coloring the blue at tomorrow. Go with that flow! You have to by means of creative kids!

#3 July 4th T-shirts

Your kids will truly feel so proud concerning parade day once they are sporting ones own patriotic designs! Begin with a white, red-colored, or blue t-shirt. Use the same tones of acrylic application. You can use standard singer acrylic paint or simply specialty fabric car paint. First, use what you may have. Acrylic color does not come out of garmets, so you are all establish there. Buy star-shaped stamps OR in case you have star shaped dessert cutters you can use some of those by painting this edges. They can work with their fingerprints for making fun designs. Allow them have for it. Watch ones own desire to control your experience. Let it get ALL their own mission. People will know that your "little artist" is wearing a classic design and you will be the sole with the "gold star" by your name!

#4 Splatter Paint Bed furniture Set

If you have teenagers around the 8-12 vary, they will think that you're so "cool" to be able to let them make it happen. It may feel distressing, but just take your deep breath along with remember that it is info on fueling your youngsters' inspired minds!

Make use of any set of old/new solid-colored or whitened sheets. Mix some parts acrylic coloring to one part liquid in the individual yogurt cup size container. This will thin your acrylic so the covers are still comfy in the long run. Lay the bedding out on the lawn, away from the house, together with let the kids generate their inner "Jackson Pollock"! Let the bed sheets dry in the sun's light, wash, and allow the KIDS make their particular new beds! To relax after this task, treat yourself to your creative retreat and additionally tap your OWN inner-Pollock.

#5 Kids ENJOY Birds!

Make a parrot feeder. You can buy a good wooden bird feeder at a craft retail outlet, make a temporary feeder with a shoe pack, or other proverbial box, or salvage a well used bird feeder and allow it a new lifestyle. Paint it along with acrylic paint and old house application that you already have. Glue found objects into it, glitter, bottle hats, buttons, those colourful erasers hanging around because of goody-bags... you get a picture. Anything comes! Brainstorm with your small children about what you could develop into a bird feeder. See how many recommendations you could come up with... a classic shoe, a use jug, a peanut butter jar which has a wire handle to hold from a tree and also hook. That bottle could also be painted by using glass paint (or acrylic paint when well), a insert attached to the side with a loop with regard to hanging, and a votive candle inserted meant for creative outdoor decoration!

The focus of of these projects is actually honestly not upon whether or not the bird feeder is still up with the fall, or if ever the paint splattered bedsheets make it to the next period, but it is about motivating and nurturing your kid's creative ability. Imagination is a "21st One hundred year Skill" and more imperative than ever for our country wide and global wealth. If we are never raising creative young people, who is going to construct all of the solutions?

[paprikadevil45]

Happily ever after..? (DD AU - chapter 1)

The sun shined bright down on beach city & little homeworld as four beings laid relaxed under it’s comforting heat, first was Garnet a permafusion of two completely different gems who together made a strong leader and good friend, than there was Amethyst a quartz soldier who unlike the others wasn’t as big or strong but still made up in her own way, after that was Pearl a strong independent gem who fought to be her own person instead of some fancy servant, and finally there was Steven Universe, a half gem half human hybrid who now after saving the galaxy is ready for some relaxation. “I want things to stay exactly like this and never change” Steven said “agreed” Pearl nodded “here here” Amethyst continued “how’s the future look Garnet? Do we all stay just like this forever?” The fusion shifted her visor in response, shortly after her smile quickly faltered and was replaced by a look of concern “No!” puzzled Steven asked why but before he could utter a word a gust of wind blew wildly causing a bit of surprise for him, he got up looking towards the object that was casting the large shadow over the hill looking up he saw a strange injector looking object looming over most of beach city and pointed straight at the hill. Suddenly a silhouette jumped up into his point of view “HEY!” the stranger demanded “are you by any chance Steven Universe?” Steven continued to stand there confused before finally responding “um....yes?” He answered “Excellent” the strange gem said as her fingers twisted among one another appearing to form some kind of horn which she proceeded to blow into loudly, suddenly a pointed drill and legs formed from the bottom of the ship “Move!” Garnet cried ushering the gems to get out of the way of the strange injector, the legs of the ship gripped the sides of the hill before thrusting down upon it the ground rumbling violently as it dug into the ground “Hey! Nice parking job, dingus!” Amethyst yelled out. The gem on top who had been watching the whole time came down landing on the bottom of the strange ship, it was here that Steven was able to get a good look at the stranger, the gem wore a strange dark maroon top which was accompanied by a pointy bow and pointy shoulder pad it was here he noticed that she wasn’t just a gem but a fusion too, she had two pairs of arms, the ones on top had folded up gloves while the ones on the bottom had much more longer gloves on, below that was a pair of poofy shorts and sharp pointed shoes on her back was a cape of sorts and her hair was shaped almost like that of a crescent, the two gems that had apparently made this fusion were a glossy oval shaped one which was located on her naval and the other was inverted heart shaped gem that had multiple facets, he knew the one on below was definitely a pearl but he wasn’t sure what the heart shaped one was. The gem looked up making eye contact with the four gems, her left eye was obscured by hair but the other had a look of utter hatred below it was a wide smile wicked in form so much so it sent a bit of a shiver down Steven’s spine, “well well well well well!” The gem snapped between sadistic giggling “lemme get a lot at this little menagerie, we have here!” Stretching one of her hands and eye into a creepy telescope “obviously your Amethyst” the stranger said looking at the purple gem “which I’m guessing would make you Garnet” saying the same for the fusion “and OOHH!! Would you just look at this” the gem said excitingly as it’s telescope of an eye circled around Pearl “you must be that pearl i’ve heard sooo much about” she said getting a close look at her before the fusion stretched her eye and hand back, “well it’s always good to know that it doesn’t take much to replace me“ the stranger snarled between her teeth “uh..um..d-do...do i know you....?” Pearl stutter out nervously “hmph! Of course she never told you about me” the gem angrily responded “all you need to know is that my name is Cuprite and I plan on an putting end to you, your friends, and this waste of a colony planet ONCE AND FOR ALL!!!!” Cuprite yelled “Woah! woah! woah!” Steven stammered running up “there’s no need to do something this extreme” Steven went on “you said that your name was Cuprite right? Well Cuprite in case you haven’t heard I’ve established peace across the-“ “yeah yeah yeah i’ve heard” Cuprite stated loudly interrupting Steven “I saw your little message and i made sure to listen to every. little. DETAIL!!!” Cuprite shouted kicking Steven so hard in the face he fell backwards. The gems summoned their weapons. Amethyst’s pulled out her whip, Pearl her trident, and Garnet’s gauntlets as they braced themselves for battle “and i just love that part near the end” Cuprite said “where Pink diamond just leaves homeworld to spend the rest of her PATHETIC life on this nowhere hunk rock, with a bunch of NOBODIES” Cuprite shouted before hitting ground in semi graceful manner using her stretchy abilities she started singing a something electroswing-like song, but accurately and half-smoothely nonetheless, and just as she deftly followed the melody, she perfectly dodged from every attack from Crystal Gems, Pearl and Amethyst tried to double team her but the fusion dodged both of them as she pulled out a weapon from the gem on her naval it appear to have been a electrical whip of sorts which glowed a threatening pink color as she tangled up both Amethyst and Pearl in her weapon and proceeding to swing them around without fail, it was here that Garnet tried to sneak attack Cuprite but as soon as she got close WHAM! something clocked Garnet right in the jaw it was so sudden not even her future vision could see it in time after hitting the ground in a crumpled heap she looked up to see what hit her the twisted fusion holding another weapon, a large hammer that just like her whip was colored in that threatening pink. After a while of Amethyst and Pearl getting dizzy she released them from her whip in the same direction Garnet went as they landed onto her with full force, Steven tried to help his friends anyway he could but was thrown one curve ball after another, he didn’t understand what was happening “what was she singing about?” “why was she so angry?” “Who is that heart shaped gem and what is she doing with some pearl?” Steven was so confused in his thoughts he wasn’t paying attention to the situation “she’s running circles around us!” Garnet grumbled catching Steven’s attention “i’m rusty give me a break” Amethyst groaned, annoyed because of the situation they we’re in “They seem so familiar, yet I don’t remember where i’ve seen them” Pearl said shakily “You've known each other?” Steven asked “Can you at least tell us who she is?" Unfortunately, their strange guest had good some pretty good hearing because as soon as she herd what Steven said a furious look appeared on her face. Cuprite started screaming from the lighthouse’s roof, surprised by his total ignorance like if it hurt her badly, her voice cracking here and there as she continued to rant, like she was on edge of hysterics. After she was done ranting her mood changed back to her usual twisted personality, she pulled out both her whip and hammer from her two gems she twirled them around for bit until she finally slammed the two weapons together combining into something entirely different, the end result was a long scythe like weapon once her true weapon was out the gem began extending her body all around the Injector ship and the lighthouse stretching her body to a tremendous degree, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl charged towards her as the pink Gem begin unwinding her body. All Steven could do at that moment was watch in horror as his friends were swiftly cut in half by the weapon their forms dissipating as their gems hit the ground with a clinking noise. “That enough!” Steven getting out his shield “aw what’s the matter Steven?” The fusion cooed “miss your toys already, well don’t worry. YOUR RIGHT BEHIND EM!!!” she screamed jumping up and striking down on Steven with her weapon, the attack went right through his shield and slashing him as the pink glowing circuitry spread around his body briefly, until he successfully shaked it off. He looks at his body, seeing that nothing is happening to him, “hahahaha that was nothing” Steven said confidentially. “Hehehe, than i guess you won’t mind if i do it AGAIN!!!!” The fusion cried slashing Steven again, and again, and again, and again, and again with the scythe all the while laughing wickedly, finally Steven was able to catch the weapon stopping her in her tracks “CUT IT OUT!!!” Steven shouted now tussling with the deranged gem “you don't poof very often, do you? Hmm, figured as much JUST WAIT!” Cuprite threatened as her pupils jiggled like googly eyes in her sockets “your human half won't stand a chance against my Injector, not after what I just did to your gem~!” she concluded. Steven was getting confused by this “What are you talking about!?” Steven demanded “You weren't always a powerful hero, were you?” Cuprite answered before letting out one last maniacal laugh, as Steven wrestles control of the weapon and swings it at Cuprite slicing her form in half and poofing her instantly, tired Steven collapses on his knees and shakes off the pink circuitry going through his body, before setting down the weapon and reaching for one of the gems that were left “better bubble you before anything else happens” Steven said bubbling the heart shaped gem, suddenly the bubble popped leaving Steven confused “what?” Steven questioned, he tried to poof the pearl instead but was sadly meet with the same results “where’s my bubble?” Steven stated concern growing in his voice, Steven grabbed the heart shaped gem in his hands so he could better concentrate “come on” a bubble slowly began forming around the gem before popping, as Steven collapses panting heavily feeling more exhausted than anything, confused he lifted up his shirt to see if there was anything wrong with his gem, upon looking he saw a concerning light flickering like a lightbulb in his gem which was rather worrying “what’s going on?”

To be continued....

[preraphaelitepunk]

Fictober19 Day 19: Of Quiet Contentment and Fainting Couches

Prompt #19: Yes, I admit it, you were right.

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None

On AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/20843936/chapters/50185667

Everyday rituals had always been soothing to Aziraphale. He wasn’t sure whether this had something to do with his angelic origins or derived more from his tendency toward anxiety under stress, but there was just something utterly lovely about small routines interspersed throughout the day: teatime, wine time, the cozy fuss that was settling in with a good book, his unnecessary reading glasses, and some nibbles.

Right now it was time for the breakfast ritual. Bread was toasting, filling the little kitchen with a homely smell. Eggs were boiling, tomatoes sliced, beans heating sedately in their little pot. Butters and jams waiting on the table. Crowley’s coffee was almost finished brewing, and the kettle for Aziraphale’s tea was just coming to the boil.

It was a moment of quiet bliss, and Aziraphale closed his eyes to savor it more fully. The only thing better would be when Crowley finally woke up and joined him.

A few minutes later, Crowley appeared, sleep-draggled and bleary, shambling over to the table and dropping into a chair. Aziraphale handed him a mug of coffee. “Thanks, angel.”

“You’re welcome, my love. Anything to eat this morning?”

Crowley sniffed, apparently parsing out the cooking smells. “Maybe an egg?”

“Certainly.” Aziraphale plated his own breakfast, drizzled a swirl of brown sauce over his beans because he was feeling particularly fancy, and egg-cupped a soft boiled. The egg cup was one Crowley claimed to despise, with little horns and a pointy tail painted on, but Aziraphale knew better than to listen to that nonsense.

“I was thinking,” he said, giving his beans an artistic swirl of brown sauce, “that we might go antiquing today.”

“Haven’t you got enough antiques in the shop? And your flat?”

“They were bought from new, so they don’t count. And anyway, I’m not necessarily in the mood to buy anything. I just want to have a poke around. Besides, we’ve talked about that: it’s not my flat any more. It’s ours.” Aziraphale applied fig-and-cocoa jam to his toast and bit into it decisively.

“Sure, but the deed is still in your name.” Crowley focused on peeling his eggshell away in strips. “Whatever. I get your point, angel. And if you want to go nosing around the antique shops today, I will be delighted to go with you. Doesn’t matter to me what we do, as long as we do it together.”

Crowley’s hands were both busy with his egg, so Aziraphale settled for giving the demon’s knee a gentle squeeze. “I feel the same, darling, but thank you for indulging me.”

“That’s what I do, angel,” Crowleys said, smiling lopsidedly back at him. “One big indulger, me.”

*** ***

“Oh, Crowley!” He squeezed Crowley’s hand excitedly. “Wouldn’t this escritoire be just perfect for the back room in the shop?”

Aziraphale could feel him holding back a sigh. “It’s lovely, angel, but where are you going to put it? There’s no space, just like there’s no space for the other twenty-five million things you’ve wanted.”

“There’s always space for beautiful items, dear. It would just be a matter of a discreet miracle or two. There are plenty of pocket dimensions out there that wouldn’t mind sparing me a few extra metres.”

“‘Course. You realize that, if you keep this up, you’ll have more pocket dimension than actual bookshop? Humans will start to notice if your shop keeps expanding infinitely beyond the size of the building.”

Aziraphale pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m lots of fun. You’re just being impractical.”

“Lessons on practicality, from you, darling?”

Crowley just grinned at him, maddeningly calm. “One of us has got to be sensible. Right now it’s my turn.”

They carried on gently bickering throughout the next several shops. Crowley managed to block every proposed acquisition — until the fainting couch. It was gorgeous, a Victorian beast long enough to accommodate even Crowley’s sprawled form, with intricate carving along the legs and the wood framing the raised part of the back: acanthus leaves, pomegranates, and (this was what really sold it) snakes. It had been reupholstered, of course, but it was done respectfully, in period-appropriate heavy crimson velvet.

“I don’t care what objections you raise, Crowley. I am getting this recamier!” Folding his arms resolutely, Aziraphale frowned up at the demon.

“But there’s no space!”

“I will move the sofa in the back room up to the flat, and put this where it used to be. We can have a sofa in the bedroom, then, and no miracles will be necessary.”

Crowley grumbled under his breath, then said, “And how do you expect to get this monstrosity home? It won’t fit in the Bentley, and even if we miracled it to fit, I’m not risking her getting scratched  by this thing.”

Aziraphale just smiled primly. “Just wait, darling; it will be perfect, I know.”

The shop did not ordinarily offer delivery, but miraculously decided to make an exception in this case: same-day white-glove delivery, including relocation of the existing sofa upstairs. Crowley protested at this, but Aziraphale overruled him: miracling objects to other locations always carried a slight risk of imprecision if the destination was out of sight, and he wasn’t about to chance dinging his beloved sofa, which embodied so many fond memories.

The actual delivery was a bit of an ordeal, he had to admit. A quick miracle or five cleared a broad path through the shop and flat, so the humans could do the necessary heavy lifting without endangering any books or other treasures, but Aziraphale found the disruption to his carefully organized chaos disturbing. It was also oddly unsettling to have strangers in his private sanctums of the back room and the flat: only he and Crowley belonged there, and he found himself unaccountably resenting the humans’ presence even as he appreciated their help. He barely waited for the door to close behind the delivery people before snapping everything back to its proper, reassuring place, and let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank goodness that’s all over. Tea, darling?”

Crowley shrugged; he was projecting cool indifference, but Aziraphale had seen the tension in his body as he hovered over the delivery people, alert for anything that might endanger Aziraphale’s precious books. The poor dear had worn himself out. “Prefer some wine, actually.”

“Wine it is, then.” Aziraphale went to rummage in his wine stash, returning with two glasses of a rather nice Sangiovese. He handed one to Crowley and settled himself on the new fainting couch, careful to keep his shoes off the upholstery. “Ah, this is lovely.”

Crowley eyed him over the rim of the wineglass. “Better than the old sofa? Was it worth all this kerfuffle?”

Aziraphale made a show of considering the question. “Well, it is rather comfy. But something feels like it’s missing.” He snapped, and a soft cream-colored blanket appeared, draped over the sloping back of the fainting couch. Another snap, and one of his current books popped into his hand. “Much better. But . . . there’s still something missing.”

“Music? Peeled grapes? Scantily clad boys fanning you with ostrich plumes?”

Aziraphale chuckled. “It does feel quite sybaritic, but the only fan boy I want is you, dear.”

“Good answer. Shall I change into a loincloth now, or save that for later?”

“Later, I think. Right now, I think I’d like you to come over here and lie with me. Not that way,” he added, seeing Crowley’s eyebrow raised. “Just to cuddle.”

Grumbling something about the indignity of being expecting cuddling from a demon, Crowley set down his glass and ambled over. “There’s not much room. I’ll have to be practically on top of you.”

“That is rather the idea, darling. Here.” Aziraphale arranged them so that Crowley lay with his back against Aziraphale’s chest, and snuggled an arm around his demon’s waist. “Just so. Isn’t that nice?”

“‘M a demon; I don’t do nice.” There was no heat in it, though, and the way Crowley nestled closer, fitting his cheek against Aziraphale’s shoulder, was far from reluctant.

“Of course not, my love. You just rest there for a while. You must be worn out from supervising the movers so carefully.”

Gradually, the muttering died down and Crowley’s slow, even breathing suggested he’d drifted off. Pleased, Aziraphale read and sipped his wine for the next few hours, sometimes resting his cheek against Crowley’s head or stroking his russet hair.

“‘Snice,” Crowley eventually mumbled, nuzzling against Aziraphale’s neck.

“Very nice,” he agreed, then added because he couldn’t resist needling just a bit, “Whoever would have thought the recamier would work out so well?”

Crowley groaned. “Yes, I admit it, you were right. ’S a good addition. Totally worth it.”

“I’m so glad you agree, love.” Planting a gentle kiss on Crowley’s head, he sighed contentedly. “So very glad indeed.”

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Gaiden: Chapter 2

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases here.

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The girl stared up at a red brick building that had a weathercock on its top.

While the girl stood by the roadside, people incessantly entered and exited that postal company of slightly old-fashioned exterior. A young man carrying a package. A young woman holding a letter to a beloved someone under her arm.

The windows seemed already open.

Within the site, a postman mounted his motorcycle while yawning. A bewitchingly beautiful woman came after him in trots. Clicking his tongue at her as she forcefully took over the passenger seat, the youth made a face that did not seem at all dissatisfied from an angle she could not see.

Lively laughter could be heard from the balcony of the third floor. So could the voice of a young woman that was angry for whatever reason. Eventually, a man made his way to the balcony with a teacup in hand. He spotted the girl, who was nothing but a part of the cityscape, and candidly wave at her despite it being their first meeting.

After that, a young woman of lustrous blond hair revealed herself.

It was a place noisier and more valuable than what she had imagined. For the girl, that place was a dreamy one.

Firmly grasping the white dress she was clad in, she stepped forward. And, at the same time, she recited a magic spell.

As I woke up, the first thing that entered my vision were slowly descending golden curtains.

“It is morning, Milady.”

Illuminated by the early sunlight from beyond the balloon-shade lace curtains, her hair looked like it was glowing, even in my dim line of sight. Its color was comparable to the Moon, the stars and rice ears. It changed depending on the moment one gazed at it. That person herself was an elusive beauty.

The morning started out like that.

Pulling my blanket away, I sat up and reached for the chest next to my bed. The object inside it, made of nothing more than two thin glass plaques, greatly increased my field of vision. Amongst the many goods sent to me by someone who I was not yet certain if I should call “father”, my glasses were my allies. And I had one more ally as well.

“Today, you are to have dance practice after the end of lectures. Time has come for you to step into the next stage. There is nearly nothing to correct in your way of walking. Please have confidence. Afterwards, let us practice transcribing spoken material.”

A handmaiden of blue orbs that were attractive to an odd extent. No – in reality, she was not one at all. The truth was that she was an Auto-Memories Doll dispatched for my sake. But I was not supposed to let others know about it. We had to deceive everyone in the academy.

I am Isabella York. Half a month had passed ever since we started having a routine together, but I had never seen the sleeping face of the Auto-Memories Doll that went to sleep later and woke up earlier than I did.

I had heard that the property of the academy I attended had once been a rose plantation belonging to an extinguished country, which had existed in the distant past. The school where four hundred types of roses were planted was enveloped in fragrances to the point of making one cough during the warm periods of blossoming.

The ground could be seen from the schoolhouse, hidden as it was in a mountain range, but people would never be able to catch a glimpse of the building from outside. The only ones allowed to live there inside of secluded rooms were young women and handmaidens that had permission to stay for a fixed period alone. What protected the ladies like a knight was a tall fence that blocked the air from the outer world. It surrounded and enclosed the school building. Those allowed to enter were solely relatives, future fiancés and teachers.

Amongst the teachers, there were no males. It was essentially a girls’ garden. A life completely packed within a box, in which we were not permitted to return home once we enrolled, except during long-term vacations.

The circumstances of the students varied, but they consisted of those meant to take a social position of high status or settled to marry someone with said position eventually. If I were to say it, I was probably the latter. I had a negotiation and made an agreement with my father to sell over the whole rest of my life. Being thrown into such a school had unmistakably been the result of him wanting me to be polished into a fine product.

“What color of ribbon will it be?”

Right now, she intended to turn my wine-red hair into tight and firm braids. Reflected in the dresser mirror, she and I wore the same uniform. It was a pure white cape over dark blue one-piece, white socks and red shoes. The ornaments specified by the academy were all items that made perceivable the excellence of their quality.

“Red...”

Her fingers, all the while covered by long white gloves, tied the ribbon for me.

Every now and then, a creaking mechanical noise would ensue. Since she and I were sleeping in the same room with our beds next to each other, I knew that the cause of said noise were her prosthetics. I quite liked the sound. I believed it to be a part of her robot-like self that had a hint of humanity. The meaning of those words was contradictory, but that was it.

Once both of the three-strand braids were done, I turned around and said, “You... always wear your hair like that, huh?”

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, she nodded pointedly.

That type of braiding did not seem like something I could possibly do. It did not dishevel no matter how much she moved around the whole day, so it was probably a well-thought hairdo. But the way it looked when loose was more charming. If I were to talk about her slovenliness before going to sleep...

I fleetingly glanced outside the room’s window. There were still only a few students heading from the dormitory to the school building. I then stood up from the chair that I had been sitting on and went around to behind her. While laughing at how wary she became of her back, I eased her with a, “there, there” and made her sit down. And so, I undid her perfect braiding.

“Hum, Milady. That would be troubling. You will not make it in time to the morning lessons.”

“It’s okay. You know, I used to be... a pro at braiding my little sister’s hair. I can do it quick. Your hair feels like velvet to the touch... Seems like it would sell for an expensive price,” vile thoughts made their way out of my mouth accidentally.

Letting me do as I pleased, she furrowed her brows. “You will sell it?”

“Huhu... I won’t.”

I earned a slightly pleasant feeling from her face, expressionless by default, clouding over.

“Everyone at my workplace tells me to ‘keep it long’.”

“That’s right. I also think so. See, while we were talking about that, I finished it.”

It was a very simple pair of braids. Wavy streaks dangled as traces of the hair that had been braided on the spots a little above her ears. Her adult-like impression had faded off quite a bit.

“How is it?”

“I have the feeling that it appears childish.”

“Is that so? I think it’s cute, though... Then, I’ll make these into buns... Look, it’s a sheep-horn hairstyle.”

“It does not go well with the uniform.”

“Indeed, this chaste-looking dress is too much for a cheerful head. What should I do?”

“Milady, you are playing with me, are you not?”

“So I got caught?”

“Please stop fooling around. Also, I have told you this numerous times, but please use proper obligatory language. All right?”

She was inexpressive and hard to read, but it seemed I had angered her. I would meekly say “yes” only at times like those, but other than when we were alone together, I did not intend to fix that. Because it would be suffocating.

In the end, we ran out of time, so she wound up accompanying me with her hair untied.

From what I heard later on, she apparently did not quite like to have her hair down. According to her, that was because it could hinder her field of vision if the wind blew and cause grave accidents when she was doing something.

Going by that logic, I felt that having a hair so lengthy was not a good thing in itself, but it matched her, so there was no helping it. The opinions of the people from her workplace added up to it as well. Even I wanted to tell her to keep it long.

Strangely enough, even though she was the kind of person that did not seem to need others, she made others feel like they should not leave her on her own. I was a little jealous of that.

“Milady, a daughter of the York household cannot be tardy by any means. Please hurry.”

Mixing with the students that rushed to the school building, we walked through a red brick path.

The school building was far from the dormitory. But that path was surrounded by trees and flowers and extremely lovely. Since I had been raised in a land of greenery, it made me want to stop and stare.

“We’ll get scolded by the nuns if we run.”

“Then, let us go at a fast pace.”

“Ahahah, what’s up with that?”

She pulled my hand and trotted. While looking at her, I was thinking.

——Just how many people in this world wouldn’t think of me as someone of no importance?

I pondered on that while racing up. Nobody but my little sister came to mind. However, she was only a three-year-old toddler.

She would call for me with a, “hey, hey” without ever having pronounced my name properly.

As I did not want to supply my musings with her, I said to the one in front of me, “Hey! How about we don’t go to class but to some other place?”

I wondered what she was doing now. Wondered if she was not hungry.

“To where?”

My adorable little sister. Her sweet voice was sometimes irritating, sometimes endearing.

“Doesn’t matter! Let’s go together... The weather is so good.”

She had marigold-colored, fluffy and curly angel-like hair. There was a softness to her puffy cheeks.

“I wanna go somewhere. It would be reassuring if I were with you.”

All of it was nostalgic.

“We cannot leave this academy, Milady.”

All of it was nostalgic.

“We cannot go anywhere.”

Those words froze my heart, and I ended up halting in my tracks.

She was merely stating the truth, so she was not at fault for anything. She was not at fault.

“You have to lie at times like these. Be nice.”

Yet I wound up accidentally speaking in a thorny way.

She soon uttered an, “I am terribly sorry” and deeply lowered her head. I felt displeased. That was wrong; it was not what I had been after.

It was not as if I wanted to make use of my position to stand above like that.

“Hm-hm, I was the one in the wrong just now. Sorry.”

I had just wanted her to treat me as a friend.

Once I drew her hand closer, I rested my head on her shoulder. Mutely, I was requesting her to pat my head. No, it might be that I was wishing for us to be something like lovers.

Perhaps she had already grown used to that, as she caressed me with her artificial arm even without me saying anything. The students passing by were looking at us. There would probably be rumors about us again. That the daughter of the York house and her handmaiden had an unusual relationship.

Whatever. As of now, I did not need any allies other than her.

“Miss York. Wouldn’t you have a meal with us sometime?”

In the academy, where one’s surname was their own name, I was well-known as “Miss York”.

It seemed that, when traced back, the York family came across the lineage of some royal household. If I was certain, it was Drossel or something.

In my first encounter with the person who had been assigned as my handmaiden role, she had explained to me that she had been introduced to Drossel as well. I had thought she was an uncanny beauty during the first time we had met. Since she was so dear to me now, the so-called human emotions were unbelievable to me.

To bring back the subject, it appeared that the fact the York house had relations to a royal family was superb, but was getting involved with me something so highly honorable? Maybe because of that, fellow classmates I was not very well-acquainted with would often come talk to me. Like, “Won’t you affiliate with the Salon?”. Or, “I want to be your friend”. Or, “My father is in your father’s debt”. They would one-sidedly grant me information. Even though I would never ask them anything along the lines of, “please tell me about it”.

Meaning that forming a connection with me equaled increasing the prestige of my classmates’ statuses.

——My, my, even if the social positions change, the true nature of people stays the same.

I looked at her and nodded. Just smiling would not earn me anything. To be honest, I was not allowed to talk much.

“My apologies. It seems that Milady would rather refrain from it this time.”

That was because, if I were to speak carelessly, the crude part of me would end up exposed. Until I was done with my “education”, she would act as my representative for all sorts of matters. As a rule, we were only allowed to bring in handmaidens for three months after enrolling into the academy, so from that point onward, I would have to do everything by myself.

“You declined it last time saying the same thing.”

Which was why I would steal and copy the ways of dealing with those kinds of situations from her, my mentor.

“Milady’s body is not stout, and she has been living her girlhood being able to spend a large amount of time by herself. She is not accustomed to life in an organization. She soon becomes feverish from talking with strangers. If you could wait for now until Milady becomes familiar with the academy routine... We know the names and pedigree of people who have come talk to her. She will most likely be the one making invitations eventually.”

“I-Is that so? Then it’s all right. Well, Miss York, good day to you.”

That was a perfectly lady-like manner of refusal, which did not cause either us or the other party to lose face. The refused classmate also did not seem to have taken it with ill intent. She quickly left together with other friends.

“What should we do now?”

It was a rule that the entire school body had to eat at the cafeteria. The atrium-like structure of said cafeteria, which also had terrace seats, bore an air of spaciousness. Even if all three hundred students and the whole academy’s staff had a meal together at the same time, it possessed more than enough seats to accommodate them.

Depending on the time of the year, seasonal events were held there as well. From that point on, the place would be prepared for a ball. I had to get ready for it too. I did not want to, though.

“Milady, what will you be eating?”

“I’m troubled. I feel like having noodles today.”

Each of us had to order our meals out of a predetermined menu to the personnel. I would have fun ordering different things each time, but in the end, I settled for eating a rich noodle soup with plenty of seafood that she recommended me. Since Auto-Memories Dolls journeyed around the world, they were knowledgeable of the noted products and delicacies of given regions. Noodles had a flavor worthy of praise. She said so upon making the decision, putting tealeaves mixed with rose petals into a pot, and I wondered if she was not going to eat anything solid, or even a single bread.

“Don’t you get hungry like that?”

“I have a meal box with me.”

She finished eating in a matter of few seconds, commenting on my aspect and my attitude regarding my surroundings while drinking the black tea afterward. I had not asked about her personal history, but her actions were just like that of the bodyguards who would be around my father. They ate extremely fast as well. They would do so because they could not grab their weapons fast enough while eating. I also ate fast. In my case, it was because I used to live in an environment where I had no idea when I would be able to get food again if I did not eat on the spot.

I suppressed my wish to take the dish in my hands and drink the remainder of the soup with big gulps, scooping it with the spoon. As I ate, I noticed that she had been observing one point all the time. There was a girl coming towards the direction past us in a hesitant pace after having placed post-meal cakes and tea on a tray.

——Uwah, seems like she’ll drop it.

In the instant I thought that, the girl stumbled over nothing. The fact there existed a girl who could trip so prettily in a way that could be called exhilarating was startling even. I could easily imagine the disaster that would be brought about. I readied myself for the three types of cake flying towards me as I squeezed my eyes shut.

However, no matter for how many seconds I braced myself for that reality, the future I had predicted did not come.

As I fearfully opened my eyes, which had been firmly closed, there she was, embracing the girl’s waist with one hand and holding the tray with the other. Although some of them collapsed, the items that had flung midair were secured.

“Are you all right?” She, whose background was unknown and who frequented the academy by playing the role of my handmaiden, displayed wonderful gentlemanly manners.

“Y-Yes...” The cheeks of the girl who had been safely secured along with the cakes were tinted pink.

I was jealous that she was able to look into those blue orbs and be talked to with that skylark-like voice from a very near distance. It seemed many people thought the same, for shrill voices rose from somewhere.

“Let us be careful and go to your table together. Milady, I will leave you for a moment.”

I nodded elegantly, gesturing lightly for her to take care of it. Although it was rude of me, if I were to describe the nervousness of the girl being escorted by her, who walked so gracefully, it was laughable. There was no helping it.

Within one month of attendance, she would occasionally be assisting people, just like me. There was no end to the students who idolized that courteous style in addition to her appearance, voice and way of carrying herself. How could I put it? Perhaps she was a person who could easily... become someone admired in a girls-only garden. Her looks were of an incredible beauty, but the inside was manly, so to speak. No, it was a bit different from that. She had a firm core and was worth being relied upon. Seemed cold but was kind. Gave off a feeling of absolute reassurance. Her figure as she always stood reserved by my side at a reasonable distance was almost like that of a knight.

Yes. Everyone wanted to be protected. Not from a specific foreign enemy, but from the many sorts of uncertainties that we shouldered.

Due to that, I had known for a long time now that she was secretly referred to as “Lady Knight Princess”.

“That is it for the review of today’s class... Now, then, I would like to start dance practice.”

The lessons of the day generally ended at dusk. Afterward, as a rule, we would go back to our room and redo the contents of the classes. After all, I had never received tuition that could actually be called an education. There were many things I did not know. She had been the one dispatched to me also so that I could take lessons in secrecy with the best teacher and cover up the gap between myself and the other students.

Our contract period was of three months. We had twenty days left. I would have to go through self-studies from thereafter. I could manage my lessons even through self-study, but I could not do that about conversational skills, manner of carrying myself or dancing. The fact that she had a relation to Drossel had been the main cause behind her selection, but there were other reasons.

The person who had invited her had been a caretaker of the royal family that did the so-called role of wet nurse, and she seemed to have detected a talent for lecturing in the latter back when she had previously hired her as Auto-Memories Doll. Had she served as mediator by saying that there was a fine and capable person around just when my father had been contemplating about whom to have for teaching such a toilsome girl in secret? I had no idea if that woman knew of my true circumstances, but I believed she had made a superb decision.

Amongst Auto-Memories Dolls, there were many who had received lady-like education and who were young girls, on top of that. It was also easy for them to infiltrate as handmaiden. Had it been a private tutor that just graduated from college, there was a possibility that she would be too old, and more than anything, it was not as if she would be extensively refined. Thinking that way, it maybe could be said that the so-called Auto-Memories Dolls were lady role models who would not cause embarrassment no matter where they turned in. It probably depended on each person, though. At the very least, she was qualified. I was not one to talk, but I had a feeling that she was used to dealing with troublesome people.

I let out a heavy sigh. “Are we seriously gonna do this? I’ll... definitely end up stepping on your feet.”

“It is not a matter of being able to do it or not; it is an indispensable element that you must see to,” she told me flatly as I expressed objection with my sharp tongue.

“Lady Knight Princess, you’re scary.”

“Did you say something just now?”

With an icy gaze directed at me, I rapidly shook my head left and right. “No... I didn’t, I didn’t. Is it okay if we do it wearing the uniform?”

“You should actually wear a dress... but Milady’s dress is not ready yet, so we shall do it like this until it arrives. I will do the male role. Your right hand...”

I was delighted only about holding her hand. I fixed my posture according to what she said.

“The next event is called a ball, but it is a dance party. There will be no problems if you so much as learn the most basic steps of waltz. I believe it is all right not to adhere too much to formalities. The goal is to enjoy it while chatting with your schoolmates. Milady, in order for you not to be troubled when you receive invitations, I shall have you perform both the male and female roles.”

Her hands rounded my back and our bodies came closer at once. My chest that particularly did not form a cleavage and her chest that looked slender under clothing touched, and my cheeks unwittingly grew red. Then I closed my eyes.

“What is the matter?”

“I thought you were gonna kiss me.”

“May I ask why you thought so?”

“Somehow... When bodies are so close together, don’t you feel like doing it?”

“I do not. I will not.”

Being taught by someone with not seem to have a single ounce of sexual desire withered my will as well. Reluctantly, I decided to take the dance lesson seriously.

“The natural position is not to stand straight forward but to turn half of your body to the side a little... Yes, and with my hand touching the area of Milady’s shoulder blade. The elbows must not shake. They tend to shake as we move, but have a horizontal line in mind.”

It was quite difficult to bear straightness in mind. It made me aware of how loose a posture I normally had. My body trembled just from maintaining my pose.

“This is difficult.”

It was difficult enough for me to become coquettish from all the long sighs and agony.

“Accustom yourself to it. Let us repeat the same movement... Milady, please entrust yourself with the male role as we progress. Protecting your aide in a venue where other people are dancing as well is the male role. Leave your body to me... If you do not do so, I cannot protect you whenever it might seem that someone will bump onto us.”

“I kinda... wanna move with more vigor.”

“No can do; please feel my movements... match my breathing.”

“I feel like... my breathing will stop. It really is excruciating, like my body is strained.”

“It will soften with time. Do it slowly in no hurry.”

If I were to describe her teaching, it was as though only the “stick” part had been extracted from “carrot and stick”.

I was exhausted from fatigue just by doing that for ten minutes. Perhaps because I had continued to do it with my neck bent backwards, the muscular pain soon started acting up. I had completely grown sick of dance by break time.

Rolling onto my room’s bed, I hugged my pillow and shouted, “I wanna do something more fun!”

As I flailed my legs to express displeasure, she repressed me without a moment’s delay, “Your underwear is visible.”

Try as I might, it appeared that dancing did not suit me.

As I briefly raised my face, she was staring down at me with a look that obviously seemed to say, “You are such a troublesome person”.

I yelled angrily in defiance, “I can’t do everything as smoothly as you! You and I are different!”

“‘Different’?”

“That’s right! Different in any and everything... You’re unfair...”

The difference was enough to go beyond making one feel jealousy and led them to the point of desistance.

“Aren’t you so blessed?”

She was a pretty, intelligent and proud professional lady who could go anywhere. That was the opposite of me, who was henceforth merely going to be polished and sold off as the commodity so-called “woman”. I was living in order to be eventually delivered to some old man who I had no idea how many years would be apart from me in age with a ribbon wrapped around me. As for her... I did not know what she was living for but she was able to make all sorts of decisions by herself.

I could not choose anything on my own anymore. Because I had made a big choice once.

“Milady.” She sat on the bed and nestled close to me. Then slowly pulled away a tuft of hair that had stuck to my mouth with her artificial fingers.

Was the fact that she had started giving me a mellow look only at times like those despite being expressionless all the time a proof of intimacy from spending the past couple of months with me? Or could it be...

“I have tired you out a bit...”

...a technique of hers? She was truly, truly... extremely kindhearted every now and then. She was being that gentle to me because she was paid to, but even so, such gentleness could become a habit. I decided to view her in a way that left me pondering over how that was surely the reason why she was famous in the Auto-Memories Doll business.

“My deepest apologies for making you force yourself too much.”

She made people mistakenly feel almost as if they were more special than anyone else. Even someone like me.

“I will bring hot water. Please go heal your exhaustion with a bath.”

Even though she was being unreasonably told off by a selfish mistress, she did not give the slightest sign of irritation. I could not imagine her being angry, but there was a limit to how much one could bear up with in that situation. I felt like she had grown weary of me, like she had given up on me, and became anxious.

“H-Hey.” As if working on automatic, my hand moved. “I’ll go too.” I grabbed the hem of her skirt and sat up.

“Milady. The buckets are heavy for you to carry.”

“I don’t wanna make you carry it alone.”

“Milady, all you have to do is to act lady-like.”

“I will, I will. I’ll become the Milady that you want in front of everyone. But, when we’re just by ourselves...”

Maybe because I was making such a desperate face, her eyes softened a little. “Understood.”

We did about three round trips to fill my gold cat-leg porcelain tub with seethed boiling water for a hot bath and finally finished collecting the heated water. There was a large bathtub in the dormitory that everyone used collectively, but we did not fancy it. Her arms were prosthetics, and I did not want her to reveal her naked body to other people either.

As she was about to exit the bathroom with a, “Well, then, take your time”, I detained her. “Let’s go in together.”

“No, thank you.”

“If you only go in after I leave, the water will have cooled down.”

“I do not mind.”

“I’ll be happy if you go in with me.”

“Milady, I am not here to make you happy.”

“We always repeat this dialogue, but in the end, you lose your wit, so just agree upright.”

Silence.

I had complete grasp of how weak she was to pressure.

While it seemed like she wanted to say something, she uttered, “No helping it. However, please stop staring fixatedly at me when I am undressing. Please do not try to touch me without permission, either. I will quit this job the moment that any inappropriate actions take place.”

I regretted not being able to hide my ulterior motives.

We immersed ourselves in the bathtub side by side. Although the tub was wide, it was narrow for two people to go in. She sat on the edge so as not to let her prosthetics touch the heated water to the best of her abilities, while I had my knees folded inside the tub.

It was quite difficult not to stare up and down at her as she wiped her body with a cloth soaked in warm water. Unlike me, who had never done physical exercise, she had a toned body. The glossiness of her skin had a pearly gleam. She herself was the copy of a heavenly nymph from some painting. I believed that no one would manage not to pay attention to a woman with such a beautiful naked figure, regardless of gender.

I brought up a subject as naturally as I could, “By the way, that girl... called you over at the end of class by the school building’s entrance, right? See, the one who stumbled magnificently during lunch break.”

“Aah... My apologies for leaving your side that time.”

“That’s fine. But didn’t she do anything weird to you?”

“She was not the kind of person who coaxes others into kissing like Milady does.”

I wondered if I was the most dangerous person in her perception.

“Right, right... She gave me something in a wrap back then as gratitude. Those things that serve for applying color to nails... were they called ‘nail polish’? There were countless types of them in it. But I am reflecting on how to use them since my hands are prosthetics.”

Her prosthetics impressively started from around the area of both her shoulders. They gave off the impression of being fake. Perhaps because of that, her humanness was indistinct. She really did seem like a mechanical doll. Of course, the flesh part of her was extraordinarily sensual and overflowed with charm, though.

Under what sort of circumstances had she become like that? Had her arms been severed, had they rotted and fallen off? Her visible scars were not only those. From neck to toes, big and small scratches could be faintly spotted.

“Is that so...?”

The war had ended just a few years before in our continent. Even without asking about her past, I somehow could guess it. In reality, arms of white and smooth skin had used to exist there just like her other parts. Even she, who could not be said to have the body of an adult, was supposed not to like the fact that her arms had been turned into artificial ones.

That was why I said especially lightly, “I’ll paint your toe nails. When we get out of the bath. You already received it... so it’s better to wear it for that girl’s sake. She might have been happy just from you accepting it, though.”

“Milady...” She firmly squeezed her lengthy blond hair, water drops spilling from it. “Milady, you have not asked me about my arms even once.”

The droplets that fell down with dripping noises looked like hourglass sand. They made me conscious of my remaining time with her.

I approached her side and smiled. To express that molesting her was not what I intended to do, I raised both of my hands once. On top of that, I placed my cheek over her knee. It gave off the lukewarm feeling of a human being. I had imagined she would have the tender skin of a girl, but that was not the case.

“You also haven’t asked me where or how I was living before becoming the daughter of a big-name millionaire.”

Since I was in love with her, I did feel like monopolizing her future, past and present. But people had things that they did and that they did not want to talk about. I was not very smart, yet I was aware of that much. Because it was valid for me as well.

No matter what happened, I did not want to tell her about my past.

That night, we went to sleep after having painted our toenails with matching colors of nail polish.

I had a dream. A dream about my little sister. I was eating pancakes with her. It was in some place that I did not recognize. A simple wooden house... the kind of home that people would use to describe a happy household.

We had never eaten pancakes during the time we used to live together, so that might have been a manifestation of my desire. The desire of just eating something tasty with my little sister.

She could not properly hold onto the spoon yet, so I was feeding her. In the dream, we had poured plenty of honey and cream onto the pancakes and decorated them with cherry crowns. When I asked her if it was yummy, she beamed and nodded. I was so, so happy with that smile...

And then I woke up.

Overcome as I was with a feeling of great joy that exceeded any pleasure and drug, I could not suppress my tears and coughs. I wiped my snot and tears with the sleeve of my negligee. It was not as if I wanted to cry.

Still, though, what a useless body function. Tears did not serve any purpose. I knew with all of my being that no one would help me out even if I wailed.

Unable to bear lying on my side, I sat up. The disease was more agonizing if I stayed laid down. Rubbing my wheezing chest, I desperately attempted to hold back the coughs.

That disease had afflicted me ever since meeting my father, but it was no thread to my life. It was just that the coughs were painful.

I wondered why that was happening. I was supposed to be happy right now. Yet my body complained about how unlucky and tormented it was.

I had made a choice. For that child’s sake, I could do my best at anything. I had honestly thought that I would be able to endure anything. I had been confident that such feeling would not fade no matter how many cold nights I had to live through. That did not change even as of late, where my situation was different.

——Still, why am I feeling so pained?

“Milady,” a clear voice echoed throughout the bedroom that was enshrouded in night.

My shoulders flinched as I turned my face towards the bed next to mine. I wondered for how long she had been awake, for she was looking at me. Her blue eyes were like candlelight in the slightly dark room.

“My cough won’t...”

“I will bring you water.”

“It’s fine, no need. It’s useless...”

“Then I am going over there.”

She came to my side before I asked. Gathering her own pillows and cushions from the sofa, she piled many of them up. As she placed them at my back, I was able to find a comfortable position even while seated. She also sat close to me, the two of us sharing a blanket. When I stretched out my hand, she held onto it.

“Isn’t it hard for you to sleep if you can’t lie down?”

“I can sleep anywhere.”

“You have an awful job, huh? Even though you’re just an Auto-Memories Doll... you gotta spend three months with someone like me.”

But it was just for a bit more.

“There is no good or bad when it comes to work. Besides, my holding of Milady’s hand right now is not my duty.”

My time with the only person who acted as ally in my academy life full of lies was scarce.

“Yup.” I rested my head on her shoulder. “Hey, you’re nice... but why?”

“What might you mean?”

“Y’know, you’re normally strict... but you’re super nice at times like these, right? Why? Even though I was pretty disgusting. From the very start, you always...”

“‘Disgusting’...?” As if not understanding what I was talking about, she had a question mark overhead.

“Didn’t I tell you when we first met? ‘I have no intention to get familiar with you. So don’t talk to me about anything other than the bare minimum needed for my tuition’.”

Back then, I had been tossed into in a world I did not know, so every person that I saw used to look like an enemy to me. I had convinced myself that such a brazen beauty who had come over at an expensive price was also unmistakably scorning at me on the inside.

“You indeed told me so. I was doing just as you ordered until half the way.”

“Haha, because I took that order back... I am... horrible. You’re... nice...”

It had happened a week after enrollment, in the middle of the night. I had had a coughing fit due to emotional vertigo just like now. I remembered that she had reacted fast and raised her body. For a while, she had watched over me from the neighboring bed as I coughed. As she had merely stood observing, I had resented her, thinking about what a terrible person she was.

——I don’t have a single ally.

It was not as if I had been drunk on tragedy. But I had been unable to think anything other than that. Firmly suppressing tears, I had coiled up.

——I won’t lose; I can’t stay weak like this. I got this cough because my feelings are feeble.

Despite my self-scolding, the cough had only worsened and did not get better. Although it was apparently an illness called asthma, there was no specific medicine for it. I could only wait for it to subside.

——It’s hard to breathe and there’s nothing I can do.

I had been on the verge of going crazy.

——I wanna sleep but I can’t.

Even as I closed my eyelids and nodded off, the coughing had prevented my sleep. Just as I had been about to scream from that vicious cycle, I felt someone’s touch against my back. My body had then convulsed with a start. I had never experienced someone doing something like that for me.

When I bent my neck to look behind, I had found her mutely stroking my back. Albeit not saying anything, her gaze had seemed worried. She had carried on caressing my back. Our eyes had met in the darkness, and she had opened her mouth once but then closed it. I had wondered why. Finally, I had realized it.

——Aah, it’s ‘cause I...

It was because I had told her not to talk. Like a machine, she had been faithfully following what I had said. That had probably been the reason why she had not asked if I was all right... Because I had ordered so myself.

I had thought she was a terrible person.

——I’m the one who’s terrible.

I had lay face-down, hiding my tears and letting her do as she pleased.

——I’m all about myself, but this person is...

Her hand had never stopped.

Was I not actually the one being terrible to the world? Suddenly, that thought had crossed my mind. Because, see, I was supposed to be an unpleasant mistress from her point of view, yet she worried about me. She had been supposedly sleepy too. Saying that having to spend three months beside a cocky and unrefined little girl was some sort of punishment could not be considered a joke. Even so, she was kind.

——She’s nice.

Only when I was by her side could I think slightly gently of the world. I could feel that I was being taken care of. Just a little bit, my existence shone. In the world I so rejected, for the first time, I had been able to breathe in properly.

After that night had passed, I had remade my request to her. I had told her that, if she could, I wanted her to talk to me normally as a fellow girl who was close to her in age.

“I am nice...?” As expected, she remained with a questioning expression. It seemed she had no intention to do that.

I looked at our matching toenails as our feet peeked out of the blanket and laughed, “You are.”

“Is that so? I am merely copying it. One time, when I was injured, the person who was with me left cushions for me like this so that the wounded part would not hurt. Thanks to him, I was able to sleep well that day. There was also a time when I got a fever from overwork, and he woke up many times at night to give me water.”

Since she had been treated kindly, she would mimic it in a similar situation, was what she was saying.

“I see.”

I wondered how many people on this earth could manage to do that. How many of them understood the real meaning behind the merit of doing it.

“Milady, if you cannot sleep, shall we talk about constellations? I am always studying them.”

People cared mostly about themselves.

“‘Kay.”

Even being affectionate with others involved calculations and profits.

“Then, let me tell you about the anecdote of the twin stars that twinkle in the night sky at this time of the year.”

They were properly able to comprehend the wonderfulness of natural kindness only after getting hurt a lot.

“‘Kay.”

I wanted to become strong, I thought.

I wanted to have a soul that would stand tall no matter what winds and waves came at me. I wanted a heart of steel that would not budge, regardless of how much my sadness and loneliness attempted to kill me. Also, I wanted to accept several matters and be kind to people.

I believed that surely her gentleness seeped so deeply into my flesh and bones was because she had been hurt in an equal amount. There were numerous scratches carved into her body. Were they not the same as the wounds in her heart? It was precisely because she was someone who had been hurt that her kindness was different from other people’s.

I did not want to forget the emotion I was having at the time. That was what she made me feel.

Quick, quick, turn.

We repeated dance practice over and over, and when the day of the ball arrived, a package was delivered to me. It had a mail in the name of my father.

Countless large boxes were stacked in a corner of my room. Jewels, dresses and high-heel shoes revealed themselves as we unwrapped their cute casings. A part of them was for her as well.

Upon looking at the postal agency covering letter attached to the baggage, she made a face as though she were suppressing a sneeze.

“What’s wrong?”

“My dress was sent from my company’s president... so the one who delivered it to the academy’s gates was most likely a postman that I know. There is a scribble here.”

On the covering letter was the name of the postman, and next to it was a smile mark that seemed to have been drawn by a child. There was a speech bubble coming from the scribble, and on it were written the words “You playin’ around?”.

“What does this mean?”

“I imagine he wants to say, ‘hurry back home’.”

“That so?”

“My original occupation is ghostwriting, after all. The reason why I took on this job was that I received an invitation from the Drossel Kingdom, which has deep-rooted connections with the York household. Milady, this is a topic unrelated to you, but ever since being hired by them previously, I have received several job proposals... Even for a postal company, turning them down was a tough demand. As a request from the president, I am now here like this, but I myself have never been away from the agency for this long. It is also difficult to keep in touch with the outside world in this place, so I cannot report to them on a fixed term. This letter is probably his own way of showing concern.”

Her voice resounded more gently than usual as she spoke. The facial expression of just now might have been her biting back a smile.

——I see, so there are other people like this?

If it were I of until a while before, my head would have surely filled up with jealousy. But after three months had passed, I had come to know what sort of person she was, and had come to know myself through her. The values of the human being that I was had reformed but a little.

There had not been much change in her expression, but she seemed happy, so I was happy too. Of course, I felt loneliness as well.

“Hey, you leave today, right?”

“Yes. Our contract will terminate as soon as the ball ends. I will depart tonight.”

“Then, let’s have lots of fun together... in the ball,” I forced a laugh.

——Just a bit more left. I want the figure of myself that will stay within you to be something joyful.

“Well, then.”

——Because I’m fond of you. So I want you to place me in your good memories. Even if I don’t become a part of your life, even if you forget me, even if I’m the only one who will remember, I want to make a little effort. For both the girl I like and the little sister I love, I want to be something good. I want to remain as something good.

“Could you escort me?” I stretched out my hand and said so as a joke, yet she all too seriously nodded, raised one leg and kneeled down on the spot.

“With pleasure, Milady.”

Even though she was called “Lady Knight Princess”, there was no helping her coolness.

My fingerless gloves were made of black lace embroidery. Bijou straps held my slender heeled shoes.

I did not need my glasses. I had an escort, after all.

I placed a wreath woven with fresh flowers on my hair. My pastel pink square-neck satin dress, which seemed to make a laughable appeal to cuteness, was as light as a feather. A red panier that looked like piled-up roses was visible from underneath the ankle-length hem.

Since I had only ever dressed modestly in the academy, the schoolmates I passed by whispered something at the discrepancy of impression that I brought about. No, perhaps it was not me. The person that they were supposedly spreading rumors about was someone else.

“Everyone’s looking at you.”

Her high-neck dress tightly buttoned up to her collar did not allow any distracting exposure. It was a full-fledged protection so-called a long-sleeve robe. I wanted to commend the sense of the person that had chosen it. It concealed her arms of artificial mechanism in a splendidly elegant way.

“Is there anything strange about it?”

“No. It means you’re pretty.”

“But everyone is dressed-up.”

“You’re the prettiest of all.”

Decorated with a braid, her long, long golden hair cascaded down from one side of her face. Seen from behind, her figure was most charming. Like stars, there were rose adornments here and there on her hair and dress. She herself was looking slightly doubtful, but her beauty was one that could be observed forever.

The cafeteria had its appearance transformed and turned into a ball venue. Said venue, covered with white and blue glitter markings, was like a world made of night skies. Silver balloons flew and spread around over the atrium ceiling. Arranged on countless interconnected long tables were various delicacies that displayed the prowess of the academy’s cooks.

From meat dishes to fish dishes, one could eat gems of rich hues at the buffet. An overwhelming sense of presence wafted from cupcakes and cookies lined up in rows, which had icing applied even to their insides.

It seemed that the table coordination plan was committed as well. Flowers decorated the teacups, candlelight wavered from within glass blows and all glasses had chiffon ribbons tied around them.

“Sublimely expensive, huh. Almost like a wedding ceremony. I’ve never attended one, though.”

Should a land of dreams exist, I wondered if it would feel like that.

Unlike me, who was nervous from being at my first time in such a situation, she was something majestic. Actually, she no different from normal.

“Shall we get ourselves something...? Is there anything you wish for?”

I rested a hand on my stomach and groaned, “My corset is tight so it doesn’t seem like I’ll be able to eat much... Hey, don’t leave my side. My vision is pretty blurry. It’s not like I can’t see, though.”

“I promise. I will not leave your side.”

Just as declared, although many people called to her, she did not leave my side. At the height of the banquet, volunteering students gathered up bringing instruments and started playing music. Everyone began swaying and, while blindly following an inspection on the melody, they went out into the dance hall with their partners. My stomach started hurting as that time at last arrived.

——If I fail, they’ll find out that I’m not a girl of nobility.

Such act that would stain the dignity of the York family. They might then become unable to go along with the conditions established in exchange of me carrying out the duty of successor.

In spite of saying, “I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna”, I had been doing my best for that sake.

“Milady,” someone whispered into my ear, causing me to have goosebumps.

I turned my whole body, which had become stiff from anxiety, toward her direction. The one standing beside me was...

“Please be at ease. Milady, your grasp of dance is perfect. I guarantee it.”

...my sole ally.

“It might be easy to trip with shoes that you are not used to. However, if you are concerned about stumbling down, it absolutely will not happen.”

She was the only girl who knew of my circumstances.

“After all, I will protect you.”

My girl, who was like a knight.

——If you say so, there will be no failures. Because I know it. You don’t tell lies, and you definitely fulfill your promises.

It could be idiotic of me to believe so much in her even though we had only spent a few months together. If it were my former self, I would never let my guard down like that. Still...

——Still, it’s because it’s you.

“Yup, I trust you.”

——Because it’s you.

“And thank you for until now; this is your last job.”

——Because it’s you.

“I’ll leave the man role to you, but do let me say it.”

——Because it’s you, I fell in love and followed after you.

“Violet, please take my hand.”

The golden-haired, blue-eyed Auto-Memories Doll – the most beautiful and distinguished person out of the people I had encountered – Violet Evergarden – smiled the slightest bits as she spoke, “Gladly, Milady.”

After the ball, we bathed together like always, dried each other’s hair and combed them. Violet went back into the same look as when we first met, with her jacket, ribbon-tie one-piece, emerald brooch and cocoa-brown boots, departing from the academy after midnight.

The next day, I would surely be faced with a bombarding of questions. About where the Lady Knight Princess had gone to.

As we bid farewells, I made her just one request, “I’ll pay for this someday; now I’m empty-handed so I can’t give you anything, but I’ll definitely return the favor. That’s why, can I ask you something as a friend...?”

Violet Evergarden replied with her sweetly ringing voice, “Lady Amy Bartlett. I do not accept money from friends.”

Hearing that response, I became pained enough for my breathing to stop.

I never saw her again after that. Only our letter exchange continued on forever.

When the name of Isabella York was still Amy Bartlett, she had picked a little girl from a nearby prostitute district at almost the break of dawn.

“Go steal something better next time.”

A boy wearing a hunting hat and bolero that hid his body up to his neck came out of a conversion store that also dealt with stolen goods. Upon a better look, it was obvious that he was actually a girl but her not fully developed body concealed her gender. For a woman to be dressing as a man if not as a hobby, the reason mostly had to do with protecting her own chastity.

Such was that town.

While clicking her tongue and spitting curses at the shopkeeper’s greedy negotiations, Amy found a girl sitting on the ground as she exited the store.

——Aah, this kid...

Rather than a girl, she was closer to being a baby. She was the daughter of a commercial comrade that Amy was close to. Nevertheless, both the child’s parent and Amy were teenagers of the same age group.

The whole town where Amy lived was a prostitution district located in a halfway point that interconnected big cities. The economic structure of the town based itself on entertaining travelers that would run out of supplies and migrating soldiers. The most common business in town after prostitution was burglary. There were also cases where prostitutes served as thieves.

The stolen belongings were brought over to the conversion store, their owners would show up searching for them, and the shopkeeper would make a deal with them for double the original price. It was a vicious cycle of commerce where complicity happened between robbers and sellers.

Amy would often see that child whenever she exited the conversion store. She had also gossiped with the latter’s mother many times.

“Where’s your mom?”

When Amy asked so, the child pointed towards a spot not too far away. Someone had collapsed there. The way that the person’s neck twisted was strange, and so Amy immediately knew that she had died.

“Won’t move.”

“Right, she’s dead.”

Had it been trouble because of jealousy, or had it been a random attacker?

It was probably useless to tell anyone that a person had passed away. She would predictably be told that than living in such a town, where 90% of the crimes that occurred were let be, was worse.

——But since we don’t know any other place or other way of living, this is the only town where we can live.

Amy gazed down at the child who was not yet able to understand her own mother’s death. She had fluffy and curly marigold-colored hair. Although she was wearing drapes, but her facial traits had a loveliness taken after her mother.

If left alone, she would likely be taken away and sold off by some pimp. Either that or she would get caught in the gears of theft business and become unable to break free from it. If one were to presume an even more horrid outcome, her entire body would be cut apart and end up in the hands of a dilettante.

“Your mom bought bread for me once.”

In the past, Amy had been forced to make the same choice. To her, that child almost looked like herself.

“I hadn’t managed to steal any wallets at all and hadn’t eaten anything for who knows how many days, so she was a big help.”

The truth was that she had never received any bread from her, and was merely telling a lie in order to use it as reason.

“That’s why I’ll help bury her.”

Amy waltzed back into the conversion store, told its owner about the situation and borrowed the help of a man. Acquaintances of the child’s mother were present as well, but no one proposed to report to the military police.

After an examination, she was buried safely in a nearby military cemetery. Upon finishing the burial, everyone seemed heavy-eyed.

“What do we do about that thing?” The conversion store’s shopkeeper treated the child who did not attempt to move away from her mother’s grave as an object. “Cut her in pieces or sell her? If you leave it to me, I’ll give you a portion.”

In that moment, Amy’s hands grabbed ahold of the fate of that child who to her was no different from a baby.

——When it was me, this man decided to make me into a thief.

To Amy, an everyday where she had to live as a robber was the worst, but perhaps she had to be thankful that she was not pickled in formalin. No, was she actually supposed to resent him? He had forced her into a path to live in such a world.

“I’ll make her my little sister.”

“Haah?”

That was why Amy thought about bestowing the child with another choice.

“I’ll make her my sister. No cutting her in pieces or selling her.”

No one would use her, nor would she use anyone. She would be granted a choice to be loved as just a child, who might have existed even if she had not been born in that place.

“Amy. She ain’t your kid, right? What kinda sense of duty are you doing that for?”

Amy answered the conversion store’s owner while laughing, “For revenge.”

For herself, the child and the mother, Amy believed she wanted to take revenge upon the world and destiny that were subjecting them to such circumstances.

Amy had been angry ever since being born. And when her mother was murdered by a hoodlum. And when she was coerced by a man into stealing. Even now as she stood in the middle of a cemetery covered in morning fog, Amy was all the while angry. What was that world even, she wondered.

——What did I or they do? Why is the world so unfair?

It was absurd, violent and cruel enough to make her nauseated. Every day, either her body or her heart would ache. There was not a single day without pain.

——Whoever created the world, whoever gave minds to humans and dropped them down to earth is insane.

Amy cursed the perverted bastards that so liked to see people suffering.

“I’ll make this kid happy. She was actually supposed to have been unlucky. I’ll change that. It’ll serve right the horrible people who were supposed to earn money out of her and the God that had been dictating her fate. Just you watch... I’ll definitely, definitely show her a proper lifestyle.”

Amy Bartlett had become Isabella York one year after that.

Just when Amy had come to learn about loving someone, a messenger of someone who claimed to be her father paid her a visit. According to the messenger, he even now wanted the child of a lover that he had settled with over money in the distant past.

His heirs had perished one after another from an epidemic. He would get her out of that poverty. Therefore, she should present herself to him. Although the messenger spoke in a delicate manner, in the end, he had come to say such a thing.

Destiny made effective use of irrationality. The world only ever used Amy.

Amy asked about her little sister. What would happen to the latter if she went over to the York house?

The messenger looked at Amy’s sister, who she had held in her arms and not let go of ever since he had appeared, and smiled.

They could never see each other again. A person from that household was not allowed to be involved with the daughter of a prostitute. If she did everything as told, they could send her sister to an orphanage or to a family that wanted children as an adopted one.

“That would also be better for her. Will you let her live like this?” he asked while laughing.

——“Let her live like this”?

Upon being questioned, Amy looked around her apartment. Even for someone living on their own, the rooms were of a narrow plan. She had no idea how many years of construction the place had. Both the floor and roof were inclined, and if a storm came, the people who lived there would be blown away. There was a pan with leftovers of a soup that she had made two days before in the kitchen. It was the only thing they would have as meal for that day, too. One of the sides of the room’s curtains was missing. On the floor lay a doll that she had bought for her sister. There were two picture books. Both had been handouts from someone else. Those were the only child toys they owned. Due to a routine without daytime or nighttime, their laundry seemed about to overflow from its basket.

It was a messy apartment. There was nothing clean. Yet it was the most that Amy could currently manage. There was nothing else she could do. No matter how much she triturated her body and worked, God would not give her anything. They did not exist. At the very least, They had never appeared to her.

There was no hope in her life. No passion. No kindness, either. There was not a single thing that shone in such a world of thin pitch-darkness. If there was but one wonderful thing in it...

“Big Sis,” from within Amy’s arms, the most precious of the elements that composed her – her little sister – mustered out a tearful voice, “Bi-g Sis.” Perhaps having felt her guardian’s distress with her entire body, she had started making a crying face. “Big Sis.”

She was not yet able to say Amy’s name correctly, so she had been taught an abbreviation for “big sister” as a provisional pet name.

“Big Sis.”

Amy had wanted to do many things for the child once she grew up.

“Big Sis.”

She wanted her to attend school, make friends and experience many enjoyable moments.

Their relationship had started out of revenge, but that was not the case now. She had managed to find hope for living in her dissatisfaction-ridden, awful life. Saving a small living being who would not be protected by anyone but herself, that is.

Such was Amy’s sole wonderful something. It had become the reason why she was currently fighting to live.

“Come now, there is only one answer you can give, right?”

The man extending a hand to her in the thin pitch-darkness was turning out as not an angel but a demon. Alarm bells resounded in her head, telling her that those who moved forward beyond that point had to throw hope away entirely.

She could not afford to separate from the value of her life, which she had finally found. She did not want to do it. She wanted to flee.

——But...

As the man had said, there was only one answer that she could give.

Along a highway of thriving greenery, there was an orphanage established through the reformation of a building that used to be a church. In the vicinities of the national institution, which Drossel was contributing to, there were fields and pastures that served as sustenance for the inquilines.

The children that had been taken in were doing farm work while occasionally messing around with each other. As the staff watching over them admonished with, “Do it seriously”, they could hear the vehicle noises of a motorcycle, which could not be well discerned due to being far away from where they were. It was running nimbly through the road of unpaved soil.

Said motorcycle that cut through a scene of cheerful routine stopped in front of the orphanage. Just as the staff fearfully went to inquire about the guest, a man was dismounting the motorcycle.

“It’s the mail.”

He was an odd postman who wore high-heel boots that seemed to make it difficult to walk in such a rural area. His way of speaking was rough, but he had given a proper greeting.

The postal items were letters, and the recipient was a girl that had just recently come to the orphanage. She was an infant who could not yet do farm labor.

Albeit put off by the man, who asserted that he would deliver the mail in person and did not listen to anyone, the staff led him to the room where the girl was. As he entered said room, the girl was absent-mindedly observing colorful lights pouring from a stained glass that had remained intact from the times when the place was a church.

The vivid lights that had transparently melted into the room illuminated it. Perhaps the room was a place for keeping play equipment owned by the children, for there were many bookshelves and toys arranged in it. A young woman dressed as a nun, who indeed seemed to like children, was watching over the other infants.

“Yo, you’ve got two letters addressed to you.” The postman crouched down to meet the child’s gaze and offered the letters.

The child did not try to take them. It might be her first time receiving letters.

She took out of her mouth the finger that she had been sucking and pointed to herself. “Taylor.”

A gleam that seemed like it would pull people in floated on her big eyes. She was apparently welcoming the strange element that had abruptly entered her life, the postman.

The man’s voice resounded with a naturally softened pitch, “Yep, they’re for you.” His eyes narrowed and he smiled just a little.

“For Taylor?”

“That’s right. Two letters for Miss Taylor Bartlett. Can you read? I guess it’s a stupid question to ask a brat that looks like a baby. Hey, you over there; can she read?”

Suddenly talked to by the handsome postman as she stayed silent, the young nun had her face red. She then shook her head mutely.

“No helping it. Hey, Taylor, I’ll read them for you. Is that okay?”

“Taylor.”

“Cool, so it’s okay.”

“Big Bro.”

“Who’s ‘Big Bro’? I have ‘Benedict Blue’ as my awesome name... No, listen. These two envelopes have each come from a different sender. One is from Violet Evergarden. She’s my colleague. It says there that you can visit her if you have any troubles or any favors to ask in the future. She even courteously included a map to CH Postal Service... It means that you can come over if you have problems in getting a job.” The postman, Benedict, pushed the letter onto Taylor after having finished reading it. “Next: sender unknown. Written in it is... What? So short...” There was no other text even as he tried turning over the stationary, so Benedict read it as it was, “‘This is a magic word that will protect you – “Amy”. You just have to recite it’... is what it says.”

Taylor reacted with a start to that word. Her eyes opened wide, blinking several times.

Just for the sake of putting it out there, Benedict bent his neck towards the nun and threw a complaint, “You should teach this kid how to read.”

“Maybe it’s because of the environment she was raised in, but her absorption of knowledge falls behind in comparison to the other children. We have to take care of the other children as well, so we don’t have time to teach her with constant supervision...”

“I get it, but,” Benedict began, “it’s gonna be necessary for when she grows up, ain’t it? More importantly, she can’t read letters... even though I went through the trouble of delivering them. People write letters because they want them to be read, right? And there’re two. Two fellows who sent her letters. It’s okay if it takes time; just teach her.”

Unlike Auto-Memories Dolls, the postmen’s job was delivery. Regardless, even for them, the desire of properly sending the feelings that someone had entrusted them with was the same.

Auto-Memories Dolls got to see the faces of their clients, but they mostly did not see the faces of the people to whom said clients sent letters. The ones who witnessed the moment that someone’s delivery arrived were they.

Indifferent to the exchange between Benedict and the nun, Taylor was attempting to pronounce the word that she had been told, “Eh... Big Sis.”

She did try to do so, but what came out were different words. That was the nickname of the grown-up who had been together with her for a single year in her life, which had only just started.

A new bed, many strangers that she had never seen before. Within that fresh everyday, her memories of that person were fading away. Taylor no longer recalled even her own mother’s face. Surely her recollections of the person called “Big Sis” would be thrown into a furnace of oblivion eventually.

“Big Sis.”

However, now was different. She could remember the doll that that person had given her and the flavor of her soup.

“Big Sis, Big Sis.”

She could remember the warmth from the times of being embraced by her, as well as her hair that used to smell sugary.

“Big Sis.”

She could remember fact that that person used to be a significant existence to her.

As tears surfaced in her eyes, she was able to recall vestiges.

“Amy.”

To Taylor Bartlett, before she had realized, that word had become a magic spell for mustering courage.

The girl stared up at a red brick building that had a weathercock on its top.

While the girl stood by the roadside, people incessantly entered and exited that postal company of slightly old-fashioned exterior. A young man carrying a package. A young woman holding a letter to a beloved someone under her arm.

The windows seemed already open.

Within the site, a postman mounted his motorcycle while yawning. A bewitchingly beautiful woman came after him in trots. Clicking his tongue at her as she forcefully took over the passenger seat, the youth made a face that did not seem at all dissatisfied from an angle she could not see.

Lively laughter could be heard from the balcony of the third floor. So could the voice of a young woman that was angry for whatever reason. Eventually, a man made his way to the balcony with a teacup in hand. He spotted the girl, who was nothing but a part of the cityscape, and candidly wave at her despite it being their first meeting.

After that, a young woman of lustrous blond hair revealed herself.

It was a place noisier and more valuable than what she had imagined. For the girl, that place was a dreamy one.

Firmly grasping the white dress she was clad in, she stepped forward. And, at the same time, she recited the magic spell.

“Amy.”

My most beloved Taylor, this is a letter I cannot send.

From now on, I don’t have any sort of relationship with you. This is the agreement I have made.

Taylor, you see, the truth is that maybe I didn’t want to become a big sister, but a mother.

I love you, so I made this decision on my own accord. I wonder how that will affect your life. I won’t stop wishing for it to go in a good direction.

You’ll forget about me for sure. I wonder if you’ll grow up thinking you don’t have a family. But y’know, Taylor, even if I’m not around anymore, and even if I get buried away within your memories, you’ll call for me. Just that is enough.

Our bond is eternal.

The fact that I used to like your hair, the color of your eyes and your smile, and the fact that I believed I wanted to make you happy – all of it will become eternal. Since “Amy” is a name I can’t be addressed as anymore, since I loved you and since that time was an eternity to me, there will be continuation to it whenever you recite something as if it were magic. There will be continuation to the me that you’re fond of.

That’s why, my Taylor, call my name if you get lonely.

[batboyblog]

Do you like the new young justice designs? I find it weird that Tim had Damian's outfit.

let’s review, shall we? (okay I’ve tried starting this post like 3 times)

Going left to right

Static 

I like this, Virgil as a character has been around a long time to have never gotten a costume change. His classic look was always very Freshman who thinks he’s super cool but really is a big dork, and this looks like that kid in Senior year having learned how to be pretty cool. It does violate my rule that a costume shouldn’t just be clothes but Static always looked like his costume was put together with what he found in his closet. Even so it’s still clearly a costume and not just some clothes it’s different but invokes the old look. If I have one major issue it’s that the vest looks very NorthFace, like why are you wearing a down jacket to fight evil? 

Kid Flash

If there’s an outfit I straight up hate it’s this one. The random black parts for no clear reason places, the bright red lines on the dark red and the ugly mustered yellow. Also the shoes aren’t boot boot like sneakers on a skin tight costume? Any ways it’s pretty clear Young Justice dug the Kid Flash uniform from Judas Contract (Picture) but that was a lot less busy with clearer colors, also no stupid goggles. Also that worked since it made Wally look like a skinny kid, the point of that whole flash back was to show how ugly they all were. This is Bart suppose to be “growing up” and it makes him look very small and skinny. Also I love Impulse, I love Bart, I like Bart’s long messy hair, him with short hair is sad. Any ways I thought he should wear Wally’s uniform with basically no changes, like Wally did when Barry died. Last thought, Bart is the only person being touched by the other characters, two character in fact are touching him, and neither of them are Jaime who he had the most connection to in his season, idk read whatever into that

Robin

They haven’t changed much he seems to be wearing more low key gloves without the spikes on the sides, I think that’s not great. He’s got a hood, which is fine. I always object to any Robin outfit that has no green in it. Dick’s Season 1 outfit was better because it had short sleeves and detached gloves. I always thought that Tim’s outfit was just okay, and since this is the same thing plus a hood, it also is just okay

Wonder Girl

Cassie has always had pretty shit outfits. This… I mean she looks like she got a t-shirt at Newberry Comics and is wearing track bottoms to fight crime. This is in no way Young Justice’s fault I mean they drew her like this in the comics, but maybe Young Justice could steal some of Donna Tory’s old looks? I mean her second Wonder Girl or the Star outfit would be good also what does she have on her feet? is she wearing toe shoes to fight bad guys? 

Spoiler

Pretty close to what she wears in the comics now, oh and what is with the too short capes? any ways not my favorite Steph outfit, my favorite is her Batgirl both clearly part of the Batgirl Legacy and distinctly her. Now of course Young Justice felt that two Batgirls would be confusing. Though there are two people named “Flash” and two people named “Wally West” in DC comics right now so…. in any case I like this Spoiler much better, the big kinda alien eyes in the full face mask a lot of cape etc. This is okay, it’s a lot less fun then I think Steph should be and makes her look kinda scary

Blue Beetle 

Not much has changed, his back things are more pincer like and Jaime seems bigger, taller and more beefy than before. I wonder if these are meant as hints that the whole reach/evil blue thing isn’t over? in any case since this is 99% the same as it was before and I like it before I like it now, it’s a good look

Traci 13

Your street clothes aren’t a fucking costume! that’s about it, though both her and Arrowette have REALLY weird necks/heads like they look almost alien 

Arrowette

Distracting head/neck issues aside this is a good costume, I question some of the black red coloring, why is her and Kid Flash’s crotch randomly black I feel like it just draws the eye and that’s strange. but otherwise I like it, the chest symbol pops and draws focus, I like the kinda messy in her face hair. I would like to see a bow, and also given the coloring (black red more red) and business of her outfit it kinda has a low-key villain or anti-hero vibe to it. 

Arsenal 

As with some of the other’s not much has changed, I liked Roy’s look in the show, the buzzed hair and more combat ready thing. It fits the character and the story really well. I wish his suit was rocking a chest symbol the black in the middle is a little distracting like the symbol is missing. Also I wish they did soething to make his robot arm stand out more make it red/red-orange, just something so it’s clear that he’s not wearing glove you know? but other all I think it fits him very well and is a good outfit

Beast Boy

The more I look at this the less I like it. Beast Boy’s long hair, sideburns, furry arms and tail made him clearly distinct from Teen Titans Beast Boy and DCAU Beast Boy they seem to have ditched the hairy arms and tail, and now he’s wearing an outfit that looks very much like DCAU’s uniform with shorter hair like Teen Titans Beast Boy, should make future fan art a fucking nightmare. Any ways I like the hair cut I’m a little worried that he looks more teenage and less kid, I don’t want an annoying harass “flirts” with girls teenager in anything ever. The outfit is okay, but I liked the choice to put him in shorts, shorts are pretty rare in uniforms and him being barefoot made a lot of sense. It’s a good look but not better than what he had going on before

The scary squad, Artemis, she looks okay I’m happy to see a bow (something the other two arrow people are missing) The half mask works on her (in part because it’s linked to her neck. All that said I’m a little let down, I was thinking she’d keep the Tigress outfit like she said she would. It was a little goofy but I liked it and it was really switching it up for her. Nightwing… um… no, the beefier build and short hair makes him look like Conner and while that’d be an interesting look for Superboy, for Nightwing it makes him look like he’s gonna break into your house and kill you. I really liked the outfit he had before and I don’t like him wearing something that in no way invokes Nightwing. Now at first people were saying this was Aqualad, but now I hear Black Lightning. Gonna go with Black Lightning because he looks older. Kinda let down, Costumes in comics have a lot of Yellow, Red, and black, but not so much blue, I want a nice blue and yellow outfit for Black Lightning. finally Superboy…. *sigh* boi… what you doing? like… it was bad when it was literally a t-shirt and some pants but at least the shirt had a logo! fuck man you’re in a shirt and some cargo pants! Cargo Pants the worst kind of pants! Young Justice missed a great chance to stuff him into a classic Kon look, like this someone please get this boy a costume?