#sort of the inspiration that was happening

[yuurei20]

Do you have information about Ramshackle dorm itself? Whether it be a character's opinions on it, or any history/lore from Crowley along the way through the main story/events? I know we don't know a lot about the dorm itself (I think that's intentional, as to leave interpretation up to the player), but combing through the whole story for lore has been difficult for me. Thank you in advance for your efforts and time. :>

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🏚

You are very right that we do not seem to have very much information about Ramshackle Dorm!

For characters' opinions we know that Malleus is fond of it (he likes abandoned ruins in general (more here ->)), and Crowley is maybe more ambivalent? He has a dialogue line referring to it as a "dilapidated old--" and then self-corrects to say, "historic building."

As for why it was abandoned, the ghosts who live there say that everyone got scared of them and ran away, which Crowley confirms.

This is a curious explanation as ghosts are regular staff members at the school with none of the students seeming frightened of them--if anything, the chef ghosts are more afraid of Lilia than any of the students are of them.

While searching for information that may have been missed, I found this fascinating theory from 2020 that Yen Sid from Fantasia could be the founder of NRC as the counterpart to Merlin (who may have inspired RSA’s Ambrose) and possibly the person who appointed Crowley as headmage.

The video creator guesses that Ramshackle is even older than Pomefiore (otherwise confirmed as the oldest dorm) as it was built alongside the school itself rather than being established in a pocket dimension like the other dorms.

As acknowledged in vol. 1 of the Official Fanbook, Ramshackle has taken a lot of inspiration from the 1936 Mickey Mouse animation “Thru the Mirror.”

And Snow White, the basis for Pomefiore? Was released a year later in 1937 👀

We have a comment from Trey that the dorms were constructed in order of Pomefiore -> Heartslabyul -> Diasomnia (which corresponds to those movies' years of release), but no mention of Ramshackle 📝

(Maybe irrelevant, but the Japanese-language title of the “Thru the Mirror” animation is 「ミッキーの夢物語」, which means close to “The Story of Mickey’s Dream.”)

But if Yen Sid is the founder of the school, wouldn't he have a statue or something? And was he not particularly villainous? And why is Ramshackle not treated with more respect by Crowley, at least, who is presumably the one person who knows what it used to be?

To explain this the creator of the video above suggests that maybe NRC was not always a villain school: at some point there was maybe a shift of power from Yen Sid to someone else, who decided to go in a different direction.

This included a renovation that removed things from its previous incarnation like references to Yen Sid and abandoning Ramshackle as a relic of what the school once was.

We know that Azul looked through the past 100 years of exam questions in Book 3, the same amount of time that NRC’s student selection process has been in use, the same amount of time that NRC has been losing all competitions to RSA, the same time that STYX was established…what exactly happened 100 years ago? 👀

A ghost mentions being the captain of a spelldrive team back when he was still alive 90 years in the past, so at least one of Ramshackle's ghosts moved in after whatever that event was.

The video creator proposes that that is when the school shifted its focus to the powers of darkness, only admitting students with those particular traits and no longer accepting students who would have been sorted into Ramshackle Dorm.

They ask, is it possible that the prefect is someone who would have been sorted into Ramshackle like the students of the past if the school had not shifted gears? Is the prefect actually where they are supposed to be, just 100 years too late? 📝

Whatever it is that happened 100 years ago, whatever secret it is about Crowley that Azul may or may not hold—the video creator guesses that Ramshackle Dorm is the key!

We just do not know the key to what 🔑

[crimsoncold]

Jonsa Fairytale AU (True Love's Kiss) by @crimsoncold

If you must mourn, my love Mourn with the moon and the stars up above If you must mourn Don't do it alone

...

If you must die, sweetheart Die knowing your life was my life's best part If you must die Remember your life

-Keaton Henson, You

For a while l've been considering doing a Fairytale inspired jonsa AU but was never able to make up my mind in terms of which specific fairytale I wanted to base my art piece around (i could of course just do multiple ones but with already so many WIPs i didn't want to plan to add several more into my art rotation) so unable to make a decision I set the idea aside to work on other more concrete art ideas.

Then of course I saw the prompts for the Jonsa Valentine 2025 event, and it really did seem like the world itself was encouraging me to make a fairytale jonsa art piece.

This time I chose to avoid basing it on one specific fairytale and instead considered more general fairytale tropes that are found across many tales when I was brainstorming ideas on what I would make for this prompt.

In the end I decided to use the trope of True Love's Kiss (i.e. A kiss imbued with it's own sort of magic, able to break a curse, or even bring someone back from literal death) both because I thought it would be visually interesting and because I felt it would incorporate several elements of asoiaf/got canon.

(i.e. both the inherent romanticism of Jon and Sansa's personalities and storylines as well as specific events like Jon's tragic "death" and his later resurrection as well as the likely possibility of Sansa being the girl in grey fleeing north to be reunited with her "brother")

As for the related quote, I had been struggling to pick one as most of my possible choices, while admittedly poignant and romantic, felt very specific to either Jon or to Sansa in this art piece rather than being about the two of them together, so I'm actually really pleased with my final choice (lyrics from Keaton Henson's song You) as it feels like it had segments that represent the differing perspectives/wishes of both Jon and Sansa in this scenario.

I was pushing hard to have this finished in time (with the event being about a month a way when I first started this) and even though it ended up taking me a lot more time than I had hoped, I am happy with my decision to make two versions of this artwork as i feel the most satisfying element and impactful part of this fairytale trope is in the profound transformation it can create, and to do this justice I really felt I needed a before and after version of Sansa's Kiss being what brings Jon back from the dead.

Anyway thats about all the background info I'd like to dump on you about this piece so l'll end this on a thank you; specifically thank you to anyone who found, liked, or shared this piece and/or bothered to read my rambling thoughts about making this, as well as a thank you to everyone in this fandom who arranged and/or participated in this event!

Being part of a small but so dedicated fandom is just the sort of thing that makes me happy when everything else around me starts to feel harsh and distressing. I hope you all have a wonderful day and that everyone feels inspired to keep making and sharing all sorts of art and creative pieces for this fandom- it seems a very small thing in the scope of everything happening in the world and our lives but its still something that brings some much needed joy that I think many (especially myself) greatly value while also forgetting or struggling to actually find a way to adequately express our appreciation... so this is just my attempt to say thank you all for making this little slice of fandom so wonderful!

-Crimson Cold

[cowboyschumi]

MY KINK IS YOUR KARMA

Summary: The culture of hooking up was never your thing, but it was Franco's fascination, something you didn't realize until rumors started spreading. His life quickly turned miserable, and, to your surprise, you quite enjoyed it. Inspired by Chappell Roan's song.

Author’s note: My first fic, woohoo. English is not my first language, neither Italian, sorry for any typos etc. Support and requests are always appreciated. Much love and enjoy the reading!

Warnings: Angst, maybe? Reader being kinda cruel/hater.

————————————————————————

COWBOYSCHUMI | 2025 All rights reserved. Do not copy, translate, or upload on other platforms.

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Boys are all straight out of fairy tales when you first meet them, including Franco. That boy had the most magnetic charm you’d ever seen, and he knew it. He loved having a certain allure and using it to his advantage, with everyone wrapped around his finger. But he liked to play pretend, acting as if he didn’t do those specific things that had people falling for him.

You were invested long before all that, long before the world knew him as a formal F1 driver. You gatekept him as your little secret.

He had lived in an Italian car factory since he was thirteen, not knowing a single word of the language. Of course, some sort of miracle had to rescue him—and that was you. Without even realizing it, you started spending entire days by his side. You were just kids, making the most of every beautiful corner in Italy. Something began to bloom inside you when you noticed that your "teaching Italian" had faded into the background. You completely forgot your original purpose because you two simply enjoyed each other's company too much.

"Ti amo tantissimo." His brows furrowed, unsure about his pronunciation. Surprisingly, the Argentinian accent was similar to the Italian one—melodically, at least. You tried not to burst into laughter after hearing those words. He was just practicing; he didn’t really mean it. But your stomach turned upside down anyway.

"Not so bad. You're improving." Your tone was strict, almost like a teacher correcting her student. He couldn't help but chuckle at it. It was adorable how much you cared about him getting it right.

"Ti amo is used in a romantic way, and ti voglio is for family and friends."

Franco was the yapper in your dynamic. Sometimes, the roles reversed, and you were the one talking while he listened. It was the way your eyes sparkled, the way your hands moved with your words, so passionate about your interests, and the boy loved that.

"Which one suits us better?" Franco asked with a mix of curiosity and confidence, avoiding direct eye contact. He was weak around you—his Achilles’ heel.

He had never struggled with self-esteem or second-guessed himself, but when things started getting serious in your friendship, for the first time, he hesitated.

That’s how everything started, some Italian words, late summer nights together, and a bunch of innocent flirting, which led to everything, yet nothing at all. Because men always have an obsession with saying the most endearing, heartfelt sweet nothings before leaving you.

He did it too. Of course, he would.

We, as women—overthinkers—already know everything months in advance. Female intuition never fails.

————————————————————————

He moved to Spain shortly after things got serious between you. You couldn’t blame him, dreams came first, and you were more than proud of him for achieving his. All the "Promise we'll keep in contact and text each other" ran down the drain.

No one is really that busy; they just don’t want to text you. You repeated it to yourself like a mantra after realizing he had ghosted you.

It was exactly what you expected from him when he got caught on a dinner date by some paparazzi. What happened to the simple, casual boy you met at thirteen?

What was so endearing and fancy, about one-night stands and then forgetting it all, that you were not catching? Committing was now overrated.

Surprisingly, you forgot about his existence—or at least, you thought you did—until some interviews of his went viral on the internet. He was not PR-trained at all, and it was noticeable by his sense of humor, jokes, and playful comments. The Twitter community started dragging him, titling him an authentic womanizer. You deleted all media after seeing that, unable to bear any sight of him.

Winter break came, and so did the end of the F1 season. His name kept being a hot topic, always on everyone’s lips. You couldn’t just erase him from your life that easily.

His start was solid for a rookie. After Logan’s performances, team principals were stunned by him keeping the car on track.

But what went wrong? He was slowly ruining his career and you liked it?

You couldn’t care less about his new girlfriend, him rebuilding his life, or even forgetting all the memories you had together. What goes around eventually comes back, and it was burning him in the most unpleasant ways.

Franco was losing his mind, and you were feasting on it.

Life moved on, and so did you. You had some me-time over the winter time, taking care of yourself and enjoying the weeks without the pressure of studying or working your ass off.

The town was a bit crowded, considering most tourists usually arrived during the summer holidays. People seemed happier than usual, which felt a bit off. Winter depression was a real thing.

Christmas was near, and that was your answer for everything being so full and non-walkable, kids and parents walking around with shopping bags. You should’ve been doing the same, buying presents, but you liked leaving your duties to the last minute. Procrastination, your guilty pleasure.

People were lining up outside Castore's sportswear store, and that was one of the many reasons you hated this time of year: consumption and capitalism at its peak. You stood on your tiptoes, trying to see what the big deal was inside the store.

The odds were slim, but there he was, signing Alpine t-shirts. You felt your ears starting to warm up, your fists clenching. And, of course, he saw you, the only female and familiar face among the group of little boys and girls waiting for an autograph. You wanted to disappear right there.

————————————————————————

"Came to see me?" Again, you two were on your classic bench, but everything had changed—everything about him.

You scoffed at his comment, almost feeling disgusted by his cocky attitude after all this time. You sat on the other side of the long wooden chair, keeping your distance from his personal space. The brown-haired boy’s eyes widened at your non-verbal response. It felt like a punch to his ego.

"I would invite you to dinner, but I’m dry... I mean, you saw me there, signing shirts." Fame came with its costs, and he wasn’t ready for it yet, just stepping into that world.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you remembered one of the many memes you’d seen about him, specifically the one where people joked that he was poor. He didn't understand what you were laughing at but played along with it.

"I’ve got things to do, Fran." You knew very well he loved that nickname—it was like poking a finger into an open wound. And you did it on cue, because right after your words, you stood up from your bench. Y/N and Franco’s bench. You had every intention of leaving, just like he left you.

"Will we see each other again?" There was a hint of hope in his voice, even though the spark in his eyes was gone. His figure seemed as though it had been sucked in by a vacuum cleaner, drained and tired.

You couldn’t help but smile, not because of his question or his need to see you. You were happy because you were witnessing his downfall. As you leaned toward him, you left a quick kiss on his cheek—a way of saying goodbye without words.

Getting back to him was not an option, not because you didn’t want to. Of course, you wanted him back. But having him wouldn’t satisfy your kink of watching karma do its thing.

Your intuition told you that your paths would cross again, it was meant to. For now, you enjoyed observing with careful distance.

[creatingblackcharacters]

I haven't been super active on tumblr recently so I didn't know there was an event!

Coincidentally, I had a piece that was inspired both by your Black hair lessons but also when I looked up 'ballerina music box' for my young kid and noticed a significant lack of diversity of ANY kind, just the same pale, blonde haired, blue eyed girl.

I wanted to ask if this piece fell into the parameters you'd set for the BHM event as appreciation for my Black peers. It just made me realize how easy it is to find for my daughter to find things that look exactly like her, but little Black girls around my girl's age have to clarify. Now I can't create a music box, but I can draw one at least.

*please don't judge the rough sketch, I promise I do know how to draw 😅*

Either way, I will be doing another piece about a historical figure, but I just wanted to ask about this one too. 🙂

(As a side note, HUGE THANKS for all you do. Your lessons have done so much for helping write and draw with diversity at the forefront of my mind. It has made me check myself more than once, even in real life, to be more aware. You deserve ALL the appreciation! 🩵)

This would be perfect! As long as you include that sort of uplifting message with the post 💝 I used to have a music box as a kid, and yep, white ballerina. Just another small but ubiquitous example of the societally deemed default.

I cannot sketch at all, so I would never judge your sketch, only the heart and intent behind it- and it sounds lovely.

You are welcome 👍🏾 I love to hear when people actually start to let the perspective click happen

[apparitionism]

Court

Happy @b-and-w-holiday-gift-exchange , @amtrak12 ! What I have for you is the start of a story—it would have been a more lengthy start, but work and other concerns perfect-stormed me into an unanticipated time crunch. Excuses, excuses... I know, and I regret it. However! What I don’t regret at all is how your many great ideas inspired me; you’ll see which of those I began with (tweaked a bit!), and as this gift keeps on giving, you’ll find I worked in several other possibilities as well. Here’s hoping they combine into a whole that—over time—brings you some moments of enjoyment. (Many thanks to @kla1991 , of course, for the continued heroic herding of the fandom cats.)

Court

Breakfast, Myka has lately decided, or determined, or realized, is her favorite meal of the day. The reason is not that there is lately a new person at the breakfast table, but rather...

Okay. Yes. That is the reason.

Every morning, she waits for the reason to appear, here at breakfast, to remind her: of importance, of why it (she) is her favorite. Today begins the second week of this lovely new ritual—an anniversary of sorts, one she would like to be cherishing (H.G. Wells, Agent Wells, Helena Wells, at the breakfast table every morning for two weeks!)—but instead, she is being assailed by Pete’s distracting habit of pawing through the box of Lucky Charms, extracting the marshmallows, tossing them into the air (up through which they ascend, and down through which they tumble, in seeming slow motion), and catching them on his tongue like purposeless candy snowflakes. Or not catching them, at which point he scrabbles for them on the floor.

It’s viscerally offensive. Why doesn’t Leena tell him to stop it?

Oh. Leena isn’t here. Why isn’t—

But then Myka is again distracted, and even more viscerally offended, when Artie huffs in and declares, “I need lawyers.”

“You’re being sued for excessive curmudgeonation,” Claudia says with a sigh. “Had to happen someday.”

“I’m surprised we don’t have any,” Myka says, pretending that she can ignore what she’s waiting for.

Pete misses another marshmallow. “We’ve got a doctor but no lawyers?” he asks from under the table.

Claudia raps on it, right above his head. “We’ve got no accountants either, big guy, but I never saw anybody get surprised about that.”

“A blue moon!” he exclaims as he emerges, popping it into his mouth. “Because Artie’s worse than any accountant. Plus everybody thinks we’re accountants on account of being IRS.”

“I heard what you did there,” Claudia says.

Artie snorts. “Everyone did, unfortunately. But you’ve managed to bring me to my point.”

“Score!” Pete enthuses. “Maybe.”

“Thinking,” Artie says.

Pete deflates. “Aaaand I’m out. I don’t really do that.”

“Noted,” Artie says, looking over his glasses. “And you are out. This assignment requires making people think you’re a lawyer.”

“Mykes, I bet you’re up,” Pete says.

“I was pre-law,” Myka says, but with an internal I say things like this too often twinge.

“Two lawyers,” Artie continues.

Pete deflates again. “Aaaand you’re down. Even you can’t be two lawyers.”

“Agent Wells,” Artie then says. Music, that title and name are, which is certainly more than Myka would normally think of any words Artie utters.

Pete, however, gapes: “She can?”

With exquisite, yet hardly surprising, timing, Helena sweeps in. “Of course I can.” To Claudia, she asides, “What am I claiming the ability to do?”

Myka wishes she were the one Helena would so casually tap on the shoulder for a sidebar. Speaking of lawyers.

“Be two lawyers at once,” Claudia says.

Helena shrugs. “Haven’t tried. Certainly willing to.”

“Maybe you can be yourself and your evil twin,” Claudia proposes, which wins her an interested blink, plus raise of chin, from Helena.

Artie harrumphs at Claudia. “Don’t give her ideas.” Then he makes the same noise in Helena’s direction. “Though I don’t see how we’d tell one from the other.”

Helena’s face takes on an aspect with which Myka is thrillingly familiar, a “try me” challenge; it is the expression she wore—the memory flashes to life in Myka’s head—as she stepped close, closer, closest to Myka in that office in Tamalpais, and for the briefest instant, re-breathing Helena’s breath as her own, Myka loses the present plot...

...which she knows because when her hearing retunes, Pete is saying, “Aha. How do you gay-run-tee a win?”

Helena says, “Play both sides.”

They nod knowingly at each other. Myka seethes with jealousy at their consonance.

“Nevertheless,” Helena says, “couldn’t we simply steal it?”

Myka doesn’t know what “it” is, but she’ll infer, she’ll get back on board; she just needs to make sure she doesn’t blink out into some Helena-inspired reverie again.

“That’s the evil twin talking,” Claudia says, “because you’d end up in court for a whole different reason than ‘I’ve got the legal right to this artifact!’ Myka versus ‘No, I do!’ H.G.”

“We do try to avoid running afoul of the law,” Artie mumbles.

“That’s new,” Helena says.

“To you,” Artie snarks.

Myka always wants to step in; never knows how. Everything with Artie and Helena, speaking of sides, is double-dutch... which, honestly, Myka knows nothing about except as metaphor. She tries, “But we aren’t actually lawyers. And I’m pretty sure that runs afoul of the law.”

“Save your objections for court,” Artie says, ignoring the contradiction.

It’s what Myka would have wished him to say, so she admonishes herself about gift horses, trying to push the concern from her mind.

And then she forgets to try, for Helena catches her gaze, assessing then smiling, sly, then saying a single, satiny word: “Adversaries...”

The syllables envelop Myka as if embroiling her, paradoxically, in a conspiracy.

She hadn’t thought of the situation that way, but suddenly she sees it sees it sees it—then she sees it further, sees herself and Helena free of the Warehouse, if only for the length of a trial, if only in the space of a court, existing as adversaries with stakes high but not mortal... it’s an arena in which she might fight Helena and win... or at least play to a draw, for Myka knows she is good with precedent, with bringing the previous to bear on the present... then again, applying the volumes of information always available to her can be laborious—and Helena is, among other things, quick. Objection! Myka can hear her saying, feel her leaping to say, in response to some carefully crafted question from Myka. And the judge, any judge, would be captivated, would ignore Myka’s ensuing sputter entirely, would sigh “sustained,” chin in hand, gazing.

Myka considers casting herself as the judge, rather than as the now-hapless adversary. “In my chambers, Miss Wells,” she could order. Order! (In the court!)

She clicks back in as Claudia looks from Helena to her, back to Helena, back to her, tennis match–style. “Sparks are gonna fly,” Claudia pronounces, like it’s Solomonic wisdom... and maybe it is.

This, Myka thinks—printed in words, a silent-film intertitle in her head, each word appearing as she ideates it—is going to be fantastic.

TBC

Preview of coming attractions:

Pete to Myka: Are you wearing makeup?

Myka, exasperated: I’m going to court.

Pete: Who? The judge?

Myka: What?

Pete: And you’re the word nerd... but seriously, do they judge on hotness now?

Helena, who walks in looking like a dream: I certainly hope so. [She looks Myka over.] At the very least, I relish the competition.

[user947468]

The Game Within | Chishiya Shuntarou Fanfiction

Originally posted on ao3! @user951250

Chapter 4/20

Prompt ; You get trapped in a TV show, dedicated to stick by the rules of the game you hid in the shadows, watching from a distance, acting clueless. But what happens when you’re also being watched?

Note- Not my best writing but I hope you enjoy! Also very sorry for the wait😓 Also just reiterating if a text is bold that means you’re speaking english!

Chishiya can't put together a perception of you that doesn't lack incognizance.

If it weren't for his compromised plan; The entry of Arisu and Usagi- he wouldn't have bothered with you at all- until your keenness of the couple and the ease of conversation between you caused a slight disturbance to his plan. If your relation with them was as friendly as he judged off your exchange's, what was the probability Arisu would want to include you in the plan? Save you from the corrupt ways of the beach? Arisu was smart enough, and Chishiya knew he would accompany his plan despite that- so why wouldn't you? He had no doubt in himself that he could coax anyone into his plan- you were certainly no exception, more over he knew everyone needed to be inspired from a different approach. In retrospect it sounded like a simple fix; If Arisu did propose you to the plan, he would encourage you too his scheme. If Arisu neglected to inform you, well, that would make playing his part a lot simpler.

Chishiya didn't know you, but he was aware of you. Relatively because of you being the only foreigner to enter the Beach, mainly because of your staring problem.

Despite his initial standpoint of your eyeing- seeing it as a vague threat of some sort, keeping your presence in the back of his mind when going about the Beach at the small risk you proposed.. nonexistent risk, if he was being sincere- he noticed your gaze wasn't limited to just him, but to practically everyone that you came across. By-chance individuals, exclusive's, higher ranks, militants when their backs were turned- it would have been considered ill-mannered in any other context, built up on walls of social curtsy- but it didn't matter here.

With that he's grown used to being observed after his brief accusation, after all you're not the first person he's encountered that stares especially within the Beach's crowd- although you do seem to a significant amount more than a normal person. Chishiya's been able to disregard you entirely- your stares and individually- so much to the point he almost forgets you are ever there at all. Despite not wanting to entertain your glowering- even if ignoring it didn't seem to be doing much either- he grew curious of your hobby. You didn't seem to care if anyone noticed, only looking a bit sheepish if they looked back- but what drew him in the most was the pressure you did it with. You weren't watching them simply to do with boredom- No, your cause was heavier than that. It was like you were dissecting them, taking apart their words, actions, reactions, just to build back up their conscious. It was as abnormal as it was engaging.

Your invasion to his plan- intentional or not- was what pushed him to come up to you in the first place. It was a weak attempt, really- too not only gauge your reaction but too see the engraved number that etched across your bracelet. He's not entirely sure what he was expecting, but when he turned around he wasn't expecting to be meet with you abandoning the kitchen entirely. He couldn't help but wonder what conscious you made for him then. One that made him that disagreeable to be around, that distrustful to refuse to pick up an enclosed item, simply because he offered it. Your rank was lower than he anticipated.

Chishiya prized himself as hard to read- with incognito facades and vacant expressions- it often came in handy, especially during this portion of his life. The issue lied with you- a potential add on to his plan- seemed to be wary of him entirely, not to frighten to stray away but knowing better than to get anymore than near. Despite it being ever so slightly intriguing, it was faulty to his plan.

Whenever he made a point to watch you, you seemed as comprehensive as the average pleasure-seeker that stepped foot in the Beach- laying out by the pool, engaging in social queues and babbling to whoever you were with at the time. It was only ever when he seen you by chance did he notice your wavering sense of character. Strolling the beach behind pillars- head down and pace fast- trailing eye's, wandering behind closed doors, swift notes on paper, glances at security camera's in every room- too hidden to even be seen from most angles- a detail he only noticed when he himself was scouting out the camera's visibility. It was thought provoking- you seemed to be ordinary enough, and it'll be easy to write your behavior off as simply a combination of weird quirks but there was no way to confirm or deny your behavioral changes.

Did you know more than you were letting on, or was it an ill-fated coincidence?

Chishiya had a plan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This had to be some sort of a sick joke.

The days following your club game you couldn't shake the feeling of being observed, actually present- something infrequent in your conscious. It clouded around you and to the center of your core; Physically, mentally, spiritually- like the thunder before a storm all you could do was wait for the uproar. What the uproar was you weren't sure- when or how it would happen was beyond you- but it felt personal enough. Maybe that's why you've been timid to leave your room- cautious to limiting your interactions with anybody, restricting booze and time spent out of your room.

It could have been because of the forthcoming of the games, inevitability of the downfall of the beach and lack of control over that fact- but you refused to believe it to be because of the exchange you had with Chishiya. Although you couldn't deny his new found enjoyment of eating in the kitchen, or sitting out by the pool and waiting hours after sundown by the bar- which, you've never seen him actually drink anything during those nights- made you slightly worried you weren't going to wake up the next morning. Rationally you knew Arisu and Usagi were the cause of his heightening appearances but it was also hard to not notice how whenever you so much as looked in his general direction- like he had fucking eye's in the back of his head- he would find your gaze almost immediately. It was so intolerable you thought maybe he did have two set's of eye's, hell what did you know?

Regardless of your new found apprehension of spacial awareness around the beach, it came with more time for you to descend into you mind. Grasping and searching for not only the details of the world before you but trying to rationalize what you proposed to Chishiya- you doubted him speaking to you was by chance or spontaneously. If you knew anything about Chishiya, not only from your time in the Borderlands but outside it too, he was never one to do without reason.

And what reason did he calculate talking to you would accomplish?

On the second day of you caged in your room you wrote down a list of three;

A) Get your staring under control ! B) Place a chair under your door knob as a short-term lock at night (just encase..) C) Join game BEFORE 10 of hearts.

A and B were obvious pro-cations- one more paranoid than the other, but who's to say?- and C was something you only gave thought to recently after you caught a glimpse of Mira and Kuzuryu together- something not absurd to see but rare enough to cause some question's to float around in your brain- consulting with each other with rigid postures and hyper aware stares at each individual that passed by them. Conveniently in one of the security cameras blind spots.

It came to you then that despite your knowledge of the game- how to solve it, how to play and what to do- even the game master's of it all- the chance of you surviving was lower than what was comfortable. You would get killed if you tried to reason with burning Momoka first, you would get killed if you tried to hid away or run, you would get killed if you tried to team up- it only made sense to leave the game behind with just enough visa days to save before the face cards.

More eager than should've been, you were almost happy to be leaving for a game. Three day's of being in your head with little to no vices didn't sound that bad aloud, and it would have been if the bar wasn't off limits for most hours of the day, but you were left futile... It also gave you time to think about if you had a drinking problem or not.

The burden of keeping a facade became more tolerable while being organized into a group, dodging through crowds and the walk to the car- the farther from the Beach the better you felt- and maybe it was uncivil to prefer a death trial to the Beach. But in the end of the day the Beach held just as much blood on their hands as the game's, so really which was worse? The silence was helpful to the fog swirling in your head, it was as close enough to feeling at ease than you've felt all week- the moon was bright, lighting up the night in just the right way. You felt concealed from the world around you, this was one of the reason you tended to game's at night. It was until your harmony was crushed that the weight was back, but 10 times worse than before. The air seemed more shallow than it was just a second ago and you slowed your pace so much you were practically standing still.

Maybe it was by bad odds, or maybe you were thinking about it too much, or maybe he was trying to kill you.

Chishiya was already sat in the passenger seat, hood down for once and as expressionless as ever. Just as you thought maybe you could get away with jumping into the nearest vehicle that didn't have Chishiya in it, your weight shifted down on a branch and crack!

You felt sick.

Chishiya hoisted his head just enough to see where that sound came from, he didn't falter when he seen you- instead taking a second scanning you. It felt a lot longer than a second and more invading than it should have been. You almost felt like you shouldn't be seen - your arms twitched to cover yourself. He didn't looked shocked to see you, or like he even cared- you're not sure which is worse. He stared for a moment longer and you felt stupid standing still, and when you expected him to lose interest and look away- he waved instead.

Was it too late to switch group's?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride to the arena was quiet.

Despite the low rumble of the engine running and the obnoxious chewing from the girl beside you- which prompted you scooting as far as the jeep would let you away from the brunette and trying your hardest to zone out the continuous wet smacks. If this was any other time you probably would've sent her a gross look, plugging one ear and hugging the side of the door - but you couldn't be bothered too. Not when your own mind was keeping you distracted. You're not even sure you've shifted or looked up from the window sense you've sat down. The leather seat's were too starchy to comfortably move around anyways.

There were three in the car- four, including you- and you were almost certain one of them was going to kill you tonight.

You've been in a game with an exclusive only twice- one with Ann, one with Last Boss, both were spades and thankfully both team orientated. You remember feeling how you felt now, catering into death with no way to stop it except faith. It was pitiful how easy you fall into sheer hope in life or death situations, you knew it had no capability in helping you yet its always what you lay back on. To your own revaluation, you've gotten this far on it- and now all you could do was hope you have yet to run luckless and join a Diamonds game.

Chishiya presence was loud and yet he didn't have to say anything, every second of the ride you were alert of his presence. Each gesture he made, small shuffle of his jacket or slight movement of his hair reminded you that this was the first time you've ever been close to the man for an extended period of time. It also prompted the weight of which Chishiya could hold over your life- he was clever, quick-witted, more experienced in the games- what's the likely hood he killed you out of pure malice of your staring? A quick fix to the annoyance you caused? Maybe he planned this game with you all along. If his attentiveness didn't make you skittish before, him waving to you certainly did. Now your not sure if you disregarding his greeting entirely was the right move or not.

What's the likely hood of you over-analyzing the situation?

The overpowering smell of leather and the dull ache of the headrest smacking against your forehead made it painfully obvious you arrived at the game. Thankfully you were saved of the embarrassment of being the only one physically abused by the man's parking job.

"Ow, you fucker! Couldn't have pressed on the break's any harder could you?"

It would have been funny if you weren't also glaring at the man, although her tone almost made you crack a smile despite it. She seemed to have had it worse than you, smashing her face against her door's window- if the small circle of condensation that fogged the glass hinted to anything. Rubbing out your forehead you silently hoped it didn't bruise.

"Are you kidding me? Maybe if you weren't so coked up you would've have the strength to stay up-right."

Thinking about it, it did make sense. Her constant ticking and blown pupils- the frantic gum chewing must have been an outsource of energy. Your not sure how the Beach sourced certain things, but you wouldn't put cocaine behind them. Although your sure it's limited to the few that would get close to Hatter, the ones that would join his 'private party's' in his suite- something you personally strayed away from. They went back and forth for a while- It was slightly entertaining at first and it brought some humor into your dejected mindset- although it got tiresome quick when it felt like their quarrel sounded more like a deranged dirty talk than an actual argument. You left after the first, and surely not the last- "dirty bitch" came out of his mouth.

The arena was just a few feet into a woodland- it slightly exited you, most game's were located out in the main area's of the city and you've personally never participated in one away that wasn't downtown. Despite the slight eeriness of the woods, the moon did good to light the forest, giving you a clear view of the trail through the tree's- it was cracked and muddy and hard to balance on but it gave off the innocents of a pathway to a tree house.

It made sense now why you couldn't have driven any further to the game's entrance, branches overgrown the path left and right. All along the tree's trunks there were subtle signs pointing to an abandon building, arrows hallowing out of the bark. It led to a cabin with trashed windows, rotting wood, and protruding beams- how it was still standing was a miracle and you began speculating that it would be coming down after tonight. You not sure it wouldn't collapse on the first foot that stepped inside.

It was no surprise to see Chishiya waiting at the entrance, having heard the low click of his door closing, but nonetheless the sight of him still made you steady your grounding and straighten your posture. For one thing, you were nervous to enter a game with the man at all out of fear of not coming back out of it- but for some reason you almost wanted to prove something to Chishiya. To prove what you weren't sure, and you shook the childish thought out of your head before you could figure it out. Getting a closer look at the house- despite its decaying frame it had a good build to it. It might of even been a structure to praise about before the rot got to it.

Laying out six phone's, a glass caged map of the woods stood before the door- probably the only sturdy structure you would be seeing for this game. You sighed and grabbed the fourth, there was no doubt you would have to wait until they were done to start the game- leaving you alone with Chishiya. He moved like a ghost through the vandalized house, the gloominess really wasn't helping his case- moving away from the door frame for you to enter, keeping quiet as you examined the interior- stained Persian rug's, cracked resin paintings, shattered grandfather clock- you even tried to turn of the light to no avail, having to use your phone light to roam around- he didn't seem to mind silence.

Until he did.

"What suit do you think we'll be playing? Surely space is to limited to be spade's," He commented, eye's scattered across the room. It was the first time you've ever seen him up close, it was almost like it was the first time he was allowing you to see. Although the lack of light made it hard to tell where he was looking. Would it be rude to shine your light in his face?

You cleared your throat, "It's possible…"

You didn't know how to answer, what answer was he looking for? Turning away from the man seemed to give you a clear head. "But unlikely," It was true, there was no room for any sort of physical action, especially not with the pans and planks of wood that were thrown around the floor. You really hoped there were no mice in here.

"Club's are our best bet."

Diamonds or Hearts if I'm unlucky, is what you don't say.

Fiddling with deserted coins you found, you wait for him to respond- You think he was to respond, based on his quick inhale but instead a loud shriek echos through the door- for a moment you felt your face drain of color. They wouldn't have transported wolves here too, would they? With furrowed eyebrows glancing from the door back to Chishiya expecting some form of a reaction- but he doesn't even look a bit curious and you don't know why he's looking at you like that- with raised eyebrow's and an expectant look like your supposed to just understand until you hear a string of laughter after and.. Oh. The color comes back to your face rather quickly.

"Interesting how people jump at any chance of pleasure while being in the face of death," Chishiya added and you couldn't help but wonder why he was speaking to you at all. Peering at you from where he stood- which was closer than he was before, he continued when he realized you had nothing to say.

'It's no different from out world, death creeping behind you wherever you are, so why aren't people just as reckless as they are here?"

The words 'our world' shivered underneath your skin in a way you weren't expecting. What reply would be the safest one? And had he always has that mole on his face?

The coins never left your palm.

You hated how he phrased his words- like he was specifically asking you why you used the pleasure's that the Beach offered at its expensive, and what the difference in surroundings made to you. If only he knew the difference between your normal world and his.

Despite you knowing his question's were to gauge an underlined knowledge about whatever it was he was trying to understand from you- still you felt a slight bit of embarrassment mixed with irritation- it grew when you heard how calculated each word he said was and how casual he threw it around, he made himself sound above it all, like he was some groundbreaking philosopher- it teased a nerve in your brain.

“Speak for yourself," you replied, "Some people enjoy the small pleasure's the world offers. Doesn't matter where or when."

"Fair enough."

The loud slam of a car door silenced your conversation- a "Let's get this thing started!" entirely too cheerfully made you worried they would go for a second round until you heard the patter of footsteps down the track. By the time they got to door they were both sniffling and reeked of sex, sweaty and crumpled clothed- in unison both you and Chishiya took a few steps away from the couple. You slid the coins into your jacket pocket.

Registration is now closed.

The game is about to commence. Difficulty, Six of Diamonds. ♦️

There are a total of four participants.

Game, "Echo Code."

Rule- Groups of two will be made. Match the flashing color of your phones to a door handle, and enter the room.

Clear conditions- Locate the code that will unlock your door within the time limit and before the other teams.

The game will now commence.

45 minutes remaining.

You were fucked in every sense of the word.

Not only were you fated to die, you were left confused- Your phone flashed a deep blue, Chishiya's a low white, the brunettes a gold, and the militants a blood red- the teams were completely randomized and they didn't even give you a clue to who it was with. There was a 33.3% chance you survive the game, 66.7% chance you'll die- you've played games with a lower survival risk but somehow this seemed more intimidating. At least with those games you can have hope throughout the process, to push you forwards to survival, but if you get teamed up with anyone but Chishiya, well.. your not entirely sure what will happen to you. You're not sure you want to find out, either- although it was something you've given thought to before and it was nothing less than brutal.

You felt sick all over again.

"What the hell? I thought we were getting grouped?" The dark-haired girl grunted out-loud with flailing arms. For someone facing death she seemed rather relaxed- slumped shoulders and slow movements- it must of been the drugs. Maybe you should take some- she obviously has them on her- and this is very likely your last game and what better way to go than to be barley coherent how or when it was happening at all?

"We are." Chishiya stated, walking around the three of you and making his way to the left side of the cabin- you have yet to wander there from the sheer fact that there were no windows to help you see- and because of, well.. mice. Chishiya used his phone to light up the hall- six doors side by side.

You decided against your pre-matured death, seeing Chishiya open a door right besides a dark blue doorknob. He seemed to notice this too, glancing your way before opening the door- or least you think he did- it was really to dark to tell. He left into his designated space, closing it with beaming light shining from the room.

You could've kissed him on the mouth right then.

The conformation eased you immensely, finding it a lot easier to gravitate towards your door than before. With a tolerable wringing in your brain you followed around the couple. The man said something this time, but they feel on deaf ears when you opened the door- the contrast of the splitting wood and chipped painted door knob to the room was utterly deranged.

Before you could properly discern the place the luminosity of the room left you momentarily blind, your shielded hand did little to help you but the short sting was worth the view of the room. Tall, freshly painted blue walls with grout work on the bottom, framed vintage artworks, black threaded carpet with gold embroidered symbols and walls filled with stacked bookshelf- the whole size of the room defied logic to the size of the house. The room itself looked like royalty, or at least a replica made for a museum of sorts. It was breathtaking- and maybe you wouldn't have minded dying here after all.

You wondered if Chishiya's room was something like yours.

And why you room was twenty times colder rather than room temperature.

After shutting the door- which looked oddly like a ship's door on the inside- you made your way to the pedestal in the middle of the room, it looked like one of those Greek pillars outside a gallery- the one's made with clay-cement and are hand chipped to perfection. It laid out a black cord phone. You hesitated to touch it.

The biggest frame was one of a painting- entirely erotic and naked, mounted in the center of the room. First thing you see when you walk in, last to see when you walk out. It was of a girl in a position so obscene you had to tilt your head at a 45 degree angle to understand its perspective, all though see seemed to be enjoying herself despite the contorted points of her back.

“Huh, never tried that one."

"Tried what?"

You jumped back instinctively, hitting your back against the door with a thud. You felt like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Furiously you whipped your head around trying to find the source of sound, "Chishiya?"

A low grunt of conformation answered your question. You finally eyed a gold platted vent, it was well hidden in a clump of smaller paintings with cold frames and you had to go on your tip-toes to see through it. Chishiya was on the other side.

"Have any idea of what we're supposed to do yet?"

"No. Do you?"

Liar.

"Give me a second."

Making you way back to pedestal you fumbled with the keys but they were all jammed shut, and the entire phone seemed to be bolted to the cement. As a last resort you exhaled shakily and lifted the receiver to your ear, far enough away encase it was a decoy and was made to burst your eardrum and...

Nothing.

Fuck, maybe there was a button- swoosh!

You heard it before you seen it. The etching grumble sound of an old pipe, running water and a loud splash. How you didn't notice the large pipe you weren't sure but it was very apparent now- it was overly rusted and, was that black mold in there?

The room was big but the way the water was rapidly flowing made you believe your time limit was shortened by at least 10 minutes. The pipe was attached too the left wall, high enough to touch the ceiling and located behind a book shelf- it was already making a wet mess of the dense carpet. The door made sense now.

Deep blue.

Those cheeky bastards.

You dropped the phone when you first seen the water rushing in the room, leaving it dangling from the cord while you jumped on the nearest chair- your slippery shoes on the velvet almost made you fall back off- but despite the echoing of the rushing sounds around you, beeps from the speaker of the phone could still be heard. That wasn't there before.

You had to lay on your stomach and stretch you arm way past its limit to reach the phone, after re-stabilizing yourself you listened intently while idly shaking out your arm- at first it sounded like a dead line, until the deeps would go longer and shorter at certain times and there was an odd few pauses of long silence-Ring beep beep, short silence, ring ring ring, short silence, beep ring ring, long silence, beep ring ring-

"Are you dead?"

"Shut up!"

Maybe it was a little rude on your part, but you couldn't find yourself to care at the moment. The sounds were too precise to not mean anything, and you figured it out early on that it was mores code but your recollection was frail under pressure despite you having memorized almost the entirety of the alphabet last year when you wanted a somewhat niche talent- although you never thought it would actually come in handy. Beep ring ring- short silence- beep beep, short silence, ring beep, short silence, ring beep beep, short silence, ring ring ring, short silence, beep ring ring-

"The phone- It's mores code."

You've felt you've left Chishiya hanging for long enough, but you doubted he needed your help. You wouldn't be surprised if he already found his key. You vocalized your thoughts purely for the small chance he would give you a clue of some sort- or backup your suspicion of the signals. The water reached the chairs legs now, your entire body shivered when a lone splash entered your shoe, successfully soaking your whole sock.

The water was ice cold.

From the vent you heard a soft stagger from the room besides you, then a small sound of clashing metal- the same sound your phone made when you picked it up- "It does sound like mores code, doesn't it?"

Was he serious?

Despite having no way to see you, you still took a second to stare idiotically at the wall behind you- maybe if you stared hard enough it would crumble down and kill Chishiya with it. However that was wistful thinking, and it wasn't going to stop the water from flooding the room.

With your finger you had to draw out the sequence code on your thigh, using pictorial recollection to try and decipher the term- W I D- widow? The water was just shy of the top of the seat cushion- you had to shuffle to the backrest to avoid getting your shoes wet. W I N D O W - Window? With frantic eye's you searched the wall's, side to side, up and down; pictures, maps, wallpaper- but no window, no curtains to hide a window, either.

"Well? What now?"

Sense the room started to fill you felt the apprehension of the game weighing you down- the water was crowding you; on the walls, the floor, soon to the roof- you never knew you could feel so claustrophobic from a body of water, and the worst part was you didn't know what to do now.

"I don't know."

You could hear it in your own voice, too.

The cushion was soaking with water now, floating around the soles of your shoes and all you could was watch it vacantly with a blank mind. The phone never stopped repeating the same sequence. You would've been self-conscious of the anxiety seeping through your voice if you could think properly.

"You don't know mores code."

Displeased at how sure he sounded at his comment you felt the need to correct his statement.

"I do, but it doesn't make sense. I don't have a window in my room."

“But you have paintings in there don't you?" You don't even want to know how he knew that, "Is there a painting of a window? Maybe even a book about paintings with windows?"

There were no pictures of window's that were hung, or blatantly obvious books that held the knowledge of every painting with windows- but it did make you think about the dresser you eye'd upon first arrival, it looked a lot like the secret passage from 'The lion, the witch, and the wardrobe' but you also recalled the the stacked paintings that peaked out from the door- too bulky to fully lock the closet shut. The only down side about his proposition was the fact it laid across the other side of the room- the room that was now four feet deep in water.

You hated that his assumption made sense. Maybe you were being petty, but you neglected answering him.

Slowly you lowered your foot down- as soon as it reached your ankle you jolted back- you knew how cold the water was going to be from the tease it gave your foot but you were still left shocked at just how freezing the water was- somehow it was worse than before and the chill of the air was making your foot relieve it's experience of being dunked. Going slowly was surely not helping, neither would procrastinating, nor did the 30 minutes renaming of the clock- you plunged your whole body in at once.

You swear your vision went white- goosebumps ran throughout every pore of your body into every crevice of your brain and it was the closest thing you've ever experienced to an electric shock- it felt like you've just jumped from a Jacuzzi to the pacific ocean. You wouldn't be surprised if they did correlate the temperatures at your expense. Each step through the water felt like you getting shocked over and over and over again and you felt like you were moving a centimeter at a time but you continued across the room. You had to use your body as a stopper so the closet door would slam shut from the water pressure.

There were five painting laid out; The first three portraits, two of laddies one of a man- no sign of a window. The last two were water damaged and harder to make out- using your shirt to dry them did little to help the wilting paper- each were different designee's and sizes and still no sign of a window. If you felt stupid with you half-walk, half-swim across the room you felt like an utter idiot now. You scanned the book shelf's- the thousands of book laid across eight foot walls- most of which were submerged under water and physically unable to be read. Couldn't even one painter have been inspired to paint a window during their art guise? Weren't they supposed be be symbolic or something?

"I don't think anything in here has anything to do with windows!"

"Keep looking."

Think outside the box, is what he meant.

“Chishiya- I'm telling you there's nothing in this room. And if there is, it's already waterlogged."

"Water, huh? That's what you got?"

So preoccupied with your own threatening vice- you forgot Chishiya got one too.

"What'd you get?"

"Carbon monoxide."

Low white.

You missed when his voice turned muffled-likely the result of breathing through some sort of cloth- and the mockery of the aggressive string of coughs he let out after the fact was almost cinematic. You both went silent for a moment. 19 minutes remaining.

"I have a window in my room."

The game's rules of teams and groups ran around your head. You failed to remember how self-willed Chishiya was. You were going to kill him.

“Fuck you.”

A muffled, "Huh?"

"Nothing."

The last 20 minutes of the game went quicker than the first, maybe Chishiya could have let you try and play it out until the last few minutes but the gas seemed to be filling up his room quicker than expected- and the other team really held no competition considering their aimless train of thought. You were really glad you haven't stubbed the girl for whatever she was taking. As bothersome as Chishiya was- coaxing you into searching your body numbing room the reflection that you held just as much over Chishiya as he did you made it slightly more bearable- you refused to give his next code before he gave you yours- he didn't argue.

It was a hunt for numbers, each place hiding a numeral- and Chishiya was a lot quicker with his translation, because of course he knew mores code by heart- but they were getting vigorous harder too find. On your part the water reached you chin, half-paralyzing your body and the slight wave of the liquid made the water sting worse than before- it slowed your movements down, having to thrash around floating paintings and uneven tides to venture off every corner of your room. Chishiya's words got more slurred, making him harder to hear on top of the already muffled syllable's- funnily enough he almost sounded drunk- but the rapidity of his words only ever ceased slightly. The mores code of the phone changed after Chishiya found his first integer.

The last round was by far the worst- the water reached your height and you had to float above water to move, this time actually swimming, and your phone cord was losing length, just shy of brisking the water. Although you already dropped it once when you had to go into the right corner of your room from the lack of extend it gave you, the speaker spat water into your ear each time after that. Your body felt like it was convulsing, teeth forcefully chattering and your body wouldn't stop fucking shaking- it was making you more and more angry at the lack of control you had over your body, as stupid as it sounded. At the last number it was almost impossible to get out behind your shaky voice- maybe you made a sound or gave some indication of discouragement because Chishiya gave you your last code first, despite it being his turn.

Somehow it worked to place your mentality a little higher than your situation- you gave him his code before going to search for your own- you already had to shatter and rip up a painting, break off a lamp, tear apart a cushion, tug off wallpaper, and locate a hidden city on the map- and somehow the ending of your game was worse than finding them. You had to dial the number into the engulfed phone. You didn't think about it before you dove number water, the last thing you heard was Chishiya's door opening before your ears were packed with white noise. It felt like an ice bath, pricking your eye's like little needles and burning your nose- it was challenge in it's self to locate what numbers were which in the water, the cavitation and air bubbles distorted the numbers and clouded your vision, the cold only made it worse. Even after you jammed your stiff fingers into the according numbers (9-2-5-6-9-0) you didn't have the luxury of an already opened door and an emptying space, no, you had to open it yourself.

You were not made to be a pirate, and it was proved by how tedious it was to get the door open. The pressure was working against you and you couldn't open it purely by arm strength, buoyancy wouldn't allow you too use your body weight either so you had to forcefully slam yourself into it, grabbing onto the porthole for more force. It blazed through your left side, leaving it aching and irritated after only one try but it only fueled the demand of your actions- you felt like a psycho tying to break down the door and surely you looked like one- it made your actions stutter when you remembered that your game was being watched- they were going to have a field day with this one- but it didn't put a stop to your actions.

Only when you staggered forwards from the demand of the water, and the loud screech of the door opening did the water stop.

You remember little from how you ended up outside, sitting on a fallen log exhausted and bitterly cold- what you do remember was how odd it felt to walk with your normal weight again, you discarding your sopping wet pants, not missing the irony of the swim ware underneath and the sight of Chishiya placing the card in his jacket- you didn't even mind if he took it for himself, accusing you later on to Hatter and saying you stole the card- and what was up with you and losing your clothes in games?

It was warmer outside and Chishiya didn't rush you back to the Beach- although you didn't miss his few not-so-subtle stares between you and the car to which you only glared at him- he looked better off than you did, more reasoned in the head and physically- but you didn't doubt he needed fresh air as well, not sure you would trust being in a car with him after he inhaled toxins for 30 minutes no matter how hard he tried to play it off. You wonder if he did it subconsciously or not.

Your jacket was thin and therefore held less water, but it still clung to your skin no matter how many times you pulled it off and your hair kept wringing droplets onto your shoulder but you were too lazy to wring it out, your entire body was still covered in goosebumps - you heard a mew sound - and you hoped you didn't get frostbite - a meow followed after.

You heard Chishiya grunt in disapproval.

Wait, what?

A dark frizzy blob clung onto Chishiya's leg and he didn't look particularity happy about it. A dark frizz that had white fur, and pitch black eyes, and a tail-

"What the hell?"

When you spoke your voice was coarse and still slightly uneven but the cat looked at you with some recognition- it didn't seem to care though, instead rubbing it's face onto Chishiya's leg, leaving a trail of fur in it's awake. Its only when Chishiya lightly shook the cat off and toed it away from his direction did it slowly start walking to you as a last resort- although not with a few pauses and giving looks back at Chishiya like he would change his mind, it was properly acting like a dejected dog. Unlike it's keenness to Chishiya it sat a few inches in front of you, staring at you expectantly. Why did it act like it wanted to kill you?

It's dark eye's squinted at you.

"You're fatter than before. Eating good?"

It meowed back.

After a minute of staring and another minute of sniffing your shoe it finally let you course its back lightly, but if you got too close to it's tail or face it would hiss and quickly advert your hand- you had to roll up your sleeves to avoid getting water droplets on its fur. Apparently it hatted water and made it very clear after trying to attack your jacket. The cat was a girl, you found out, and after a few minutes of debating you mentally named it Alice. You thought it was fitting enough.

The roar of the engine rudely brought you back to your circumstance; your game, the frost of your skin, the fact Chishiya was going to drive off without you if you took to long- with a final pat on Alice's head you made your way back down the path.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride back to the Beach was as quiet as it was from the Beach.

It was daunting how quiet Chishiya was compared to the start of the game- how quickly he was able to switch his act's now that he had an opinion on you- you could only guess what it was but you couldn't imagine anything more than lackluster. It almost made you feel dispirited- keyword almost- but you really hadn't had anything to show from the game. Nothing worth praising anyways, except the fact that you made it out alive- and even then Chishiya had more of the backbone during it. Although pouting in the same area he was in- especially over something so pointless- wasn't going to do you any good.

The coins surprisingly still laid in your jacket pocket.

The lowered window's helped the air flow in the car- it did wonders for drying your hair and jacket, yet it still made you uncomfortable at the way it nipped at your skin. Not as cold as the water- well, definitely not as cold as the water but still chilly enough to make your huddle into yourself, legs to your torso and jacket stretched over your knees. If Chishiya thought anything low about your actions he didn't voice them.

By the time you got back the Beach was still as lively as ever, loud crowds and booming music- it made you wish the water did irreversible damage to your hearing after all. You made your way up the gate in silence, you walking a few feet in-front of Chishiya- he gave you a indecipherable look when you muttered a sarcastic 'Girls first!' when he walked through the gate door you opened for yourself. The first thing on your mind was a warm shower (if you did get frost bite, was it safe to go into hot water right after?) and your bed, your layered, not drenched with water, bed. Surprisingly you were not as sore as you thought you would be, but maybe that was because you were still numb from your waist down, and you really shouldn't be jinxing yourself. It would be worse tomorrow.

Half way up the drive way Chishiya spoke up to your astonishment, it was the first thing he said to you at all after the game. He was fully turned to you and had his palm open, curiously you peaked down and saw the keys laid in his hand, trailing your eyes back to his face you gazed at him questionably. The Beach light's were definitely doing him justice- or maybe he always looked like that and you were just too far or it was too dark to tell. He looked exactly how he did on TV; Dead hair, pricing eye's, smooth pale skin- and he was definitely wearing eyeliner.

He looked good.

"Put the key's away would you?"

It made sense, the car slot and Hatters suite was on opposite end's of the beach- you were more surprised that he wasn't holding the key's out by it's chain so you wouldn't have to touch him. Trying not to be as weird as you felt- you hummed in agreement and took the keys into your own hands- he was significantly warmer than you, you wouldn't have guessed he ran hot- the asshole wiped his hand on his jacket after, you had to bite your tongue not to smile.

You're not sure what possessed you, or what type of sickness the game gave you but before he could walk away you asked, "So, Chishiya? What's my verdict?"

For the first time he did look a little surprised, it wasn't really an accomplishment but it sure felt like one, and he took a second to respond.

"I never told you my name."

Maybe you were better off not asking. You stayed put even after he walked away, through the crowds and into the building- you only moved when you heard a distinct meow behind you.

Looking back, you never realized how much Alice looked liked a cat version of Chishiya.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag- @mypsychoticlove

[jackoquako]

today’s word is Weaponisation!!!

the act of using something as a way of attacking a person or a group : 

weaponization of He described the weaponization of the legal system to promote a political agenda as fundamentallyanti-democratic.

The weaponization of language is the process in which language can be used to inflict harm on others.

source: Cambridge Dictionary.

viv uses everything she can, including information about other people that isn’t hers to share, to attack people. She uses the fact that other villains have merch, ignoring the context of her own merch and the context of why people are uncomfortable with that character specifically. Then she uses the criticism itself to defend harmful rhetoric. And of course then she uses her fantastic advocacy for sa victims.

(Also I’ve never seen a creator of a show doing the whole “Well!!! I wasn’t!!! But even if I was!!” Argument. Like bro you’re not a kid anymore you have to do better than that.)

if you can’t handle writing a topic in a show without endearing yourself to the villain who committed a true, happens in real life, sort of atrocity, then you aren’t equipped to write that narrative.

there’s a graceful and an ignorant way to handling every topic and almost media stays somewhere in the middle, with few exceptions for either side. Viv has managed to land so far on the ignorant side that it’s inspired me to start writing with my eyes closed, because clearly that’s how you can get funded by Amazon.

Enjoy. My magum Opus

[lskamil27]

what was your inspiration to create your game? how was the creation process?

all the best, and good luck with the game! :D

OOO I CAN DEFINITELY ANSWER THIS!!

My inspiration for Weeping Rosemary was? a bit varied throughout it's creation, since I had first conceptualized it in 2018. I don't recall what led me to it, but I remember first creating Ophelia and drawing her around this time.

Weeping Rosemary was originally a webcomic series, since it was what I knew best and what was easier for me around this time, even though I always imagined it as a game in my heart. However, uni came along and made me too busy to continue it - which, to be honest, might have been a blessing in disguise LMAO

The story of Weeping Rosemary was... not well written at all. Coming out of the hands of a teen who's main consumption of media was edgy horror manga, or really outdated harem anime; the writing of it was so juvenile and cringe ( and not in a 'but free' way! )

As I got older, and my interests expanded, as well as my own growth within myself - it affected a lot of how Weeping Rosemary has changed and developed.

Now, for what inspired - a lot of it is the gothic! And not gothic as in like, the fashion & makeup, etc. ( though I still like these elements a lot ); but the books of gothic novellas! The books that mainly inspired me being:

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter

And then of course, movies such as Crimson Peak, directed by Guillermo del Toro, and the series Penny Dreadful. They are other media I like as well that have inspired me, but I can't comment solidly as I only know them from an outside POV ( for now ), like Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu, and Bram Stoker's Dracula, for example.

I really like sensual ( sexy? ) horror, that does a nice balance of blending in elements of sexuality with terror - and I feel that gothic novellas do a nice balance of this; which is what I plan ( and hopefully succeed ) in with Weeping Rosemary's full game. It's also why WR's horror is not, like, a loud jumpscare horror, moreso than a subtle horror.

As for the creation process - The game production had commenced around February of this year, as it was my final semester as a art student. I had to do a thesis and all I knew was that I realllllly wanted to make a game, but I was unsure of what. I decided to revise and redo Weeping Rosemary, my webcomic, because I felt confident that I could not only give it the writing it deserved, but make into the game I always imagined!

My dear friend & classmate had the program, and she gave me hers, and so I got to work! Weeping Rosemary became my thesis, and I had completed the demo game around?? April 30th?

I'll show in the images below, but I had done a lot of writing; around almost 30 pages of script writing and 5 page outline to hand to my professor so he could see my plan. And then a lot of thumbnail planning and art to make for the CG and sprites! As well as see what art style would suit the game best.

Some progress shots, to show the general gist:

[sunnystrikerz]

Mac and his scary titan privileges :]

[eriisaam]

Good news! I can finally stop spamming this post!

Bad news, getting the magikoopa to dupe itself takes a lot more setup than it looks, and spoiler alert: it was fucking annoying.

How annoying, you ask? As-is, this shit is too crowded out the get-go. If there's other units in place, especially non-magikoopas, then these magikoopas will prioritize spamming the shit out of healing and/or buffing spells on the non-magic units.

But you also can't just narrow it down to ONE magikoopa, cuz guess what? The motherfucker will flee if they're the last and only unit left (and being reminded of that after carefully killing all but the flying one only to have that last one run away on me made me nearly scream.)

ANYWAYS. I accidentally grounded the flying one, but thank fuck, grounded and flying magikoopas both count to this experiment, and I got the one on the left to duplicate. To explain why the screenshot looks so borked, when duped, the magikoopa and their clone will phase in and out of view, and I caught the original mid-damage while the clone was mid-phasing (but you can hopefully see them). Like last time, I saved after the cloning happened, but before I did anything, and to be clear: The one on the far left is the original, the middle one is a copy on the left, and the right is a different, unrelated magikoopa I kept alive to keep the first one from running away.

So, to answer the second phase of this long shitshow:

If a magikoopa from Bowser's Castle used their Illusion move and made a copy of itself, can Goombario tell the difference between the real and fake magikoopa via Tattle (like he could with Crystal King/like Goombella can in the sequel)?

The answer?

YES.

So that answers that.... what now?

For now, I'll post my findings on the post that inspired this all (but condensed), and while I have interest in testing other Paper Mario findings, that's in a "do over time/eventually" thing rather than a "haul ass as fast as possible" thing, will be split up into separate posts in a series of posts I'll probably tag as Paper Mario 64 Discovery Saga (or something along the lines) when I get around to it, and I might get around to it after getting other stuff done first.

It also might take a moment, cuz in both findings here, and stuff to test later, I already see some Broth covered anyways (such as the above Jr Troopa findings+), and I wanna not only sort out what's stuff that's already documented, and what stuff to test all in one go (and not spontaneously out of order like this post saga did, hence why I keep running into 'stuff to test long after the point I could've tested it' issues cuz all of this was impulse rushed) so if I'm gonna do a longhaul of this whole game again, at least I'm more aware of everything I need to check out first.

+ Specifically, he mentions in this post about the same (typo'd) unique dialogue Jr Troopa has if you try to jumpscare him out of the battle, though like I said, when I tested it, it was in the second-to-last Jr Troopa battle between Shiver City and Starborn, I stress-tested with Fright Jar, Spook, Hurricane and Air Lift (I can't test with Up & Away that battle), and he only commented on Spook and Air Lift. Based on the screencaps, when he tested it on the last battle, mentions the comment happened with both Spook and Fright Jar, and this makes me wonder one thing while confirms another thing.

At the very least, it confirms to me that Jr Troopa does have a reaction that seems to carry over across his battles (so one immediate thing I'd be interested testing is whether or not his reaction changes based on all the other encounters leading up to these final two), whether or not he gains or loses awareness to certain factors (for instance Fright Jar didn't do anything for me in the second-to-last battle, but does he react in his last battle?), or if there's other reactions otherwise.

Other things I wanna test out (organized in order of when you can actually do them, and excluding stuff I know was documented, people already know, or what was already tested above):

If you lure a Koopa Troopa or Spiky Goomba to the bridge on Pleasant Path with the red and green diamond pattern and battle him on it, there's a unique battle background showing the bridge.

If you're standing on the table in the Koopa Village Toad House, the Toad will yell at you to get off the table before he lets you use his services.

One of your party members is recruited when you break open a lantern she is being held hostage inside. Most players just whack the lantern with the hammer, but if you break the lantern by blowing it up with Bombette, she complains that it wasn't necessary to use that much force.

In the scene following the Fuzzipede battle, your partner mentions remembering Twink saying where the next Star Spirit is. Since the battle takes place in darkness, you normally can't damage Fuzzipede without having Watt out, but if you wear the Zap Tap badge or use a Volt Shroom at the right time, you can end the battle with a different partner out, and all of the partners actually have unique dialogue for this scene.

Generally, you can deliver letters to recipients at any time. In the case of Kolorado, there's a point during chapter 5 where he's been badly hurt by a spiked rolling rock, but he gets back up as soon as you enter the next room. You can deliver him a letter during this very brief period, and not only will he have unique dialogue for it, Parakarry will break his usual spiel to ask if he's okay.

If using Cloud Nine when Mario is under the effect of Dizzy, Sleep or Freeze, Lakilester will pick him up with his cloud instead of having Mario jumping on it.

But for now, I'm taking a fat fucking break, and catching up on shit, and for the mutuals whose been following along or at least been super patient seeing this post recycled several times in a row: Thank you.

When you woke up planning to try to get some work done despite feeling icky and burnt out, only to get derailed by splitting attention across four or five games that need your attention, and a fifth you now have to longhaul to try to test/prove a point

[bakawitch]

Yandere magical cat girl with giant scissor swords, here to make a certain magical detective's life harder, it's Miss Mouser!

By the daylight, Marinette is just an ordinary girl working in a haberdashery, but at night she prowles the Parisian streets under a magical alias, hoping to attract the attention of Detective Roux by committing various nonsensical murders with nearly undecipherable clues left behind leading to her location.

[faxaway]

this curious mf always analyzing something

feat live @peskellence discord reaction:

[llitchilitchi]

me and @oduvany binged Redwall together a little while ago so I decided to doodle a DSMP/Redwall crossover feat. mice c!DTeam, fieldmouse c!Tommy and dormouse C!Punz

[peachcitt]

from: thirteen by @anna-scribbles

art by me :)

start from the beginning // read the november chapter // read the most recent chapter (january)

hey listen. look me in my eyes. have you read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think if you want your life to be forever changed you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think if you are a person who is breathing and alive you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. thank you

[somethingfishysgoingon]

FISHY!! DRAW ATMOD AND MY LIFE IS YOURS /ref /silly

(5) Actually, uncertain when I will get to them but if anyone wants to send DnDads drawing requests, go ahead!! (Life is hectic... – @somethingfishysgoingon on Tumblr

This ask prompted me to finally listen to the first episode of ATMOD (aaaand I have not yet gotten around to the rest <3)