#the real concerns here are the labor ones!!! people not being paid for use of their art in databases intended to replace their jobs!

[snowstories]

I think I am officially at the point where I hate those 'how to spot AI' tips and tricks lists and the paralyzing anxiety around ever interacting with anything generative AI far more than I could ever actually hate generative AI. The 'signs' that something is AI get less and less clear-cut with each passing day and yet people keep sharing 'tips and tricks' that basically just encourage you to scrutinize everyone's art and call AI the moment you see something even slightly out of the norm. 'If an artist has wildly different art styles that's AI!' or maybe they just have different art styles. 'If the lines blur and details don't make sense it's AI!' or maybe it's a deliberate choice in the art. 'If the anatomy is off it's AI!' or maybe it's a stylistic choice or the artist just isn't very good at anatomy. 'If there's lots of art of popular topics in similar styles it's AI!' are you kidding me. Etc. Even worse when people start sharing tips on how to clock writing AI that basically boil down to 'if the English is nonsensical it's AI' like, or maybe the author just doesn't speak English very well? If that 'The Rumor Does Come Out: Does Bruno Mars Is Gay?' article came out today everyone would be swearing up and down that it's AI when it was just bad English (idk if the author genuinely didn't speak English well or if it was a joke but either way the point stands I think). 'If the article is nonsensical it's AI' or maybe it was just a rush job for little money come on now are we going to pretend shitty inaccurate articles started with AI? Saw a post that said 'if the writing seems overly stiff and formal it's AI' and they proceeded to list examples that I have said pretty much verbatim because I'm autistic and often have trouble figuring out how to start posts in a way that sounds natural. This shit sucks!

Like I'm not saying these signs can't be AI, I've definitely read nonsensical articles before and thought 'that's probably AI' or seen blogs recently created with a bunch of art in wildly different styles and thought 'that's probably AI' but the point is you can't know for sure. Fact is that most ways of telling whether something is AI or not at this point are entirely vibes based. And maybe I'm just a gullible naive bitch or whatever but I really do feel like ruthlessly scrutinizing each piece of art you see and insisting it's AI based on vibes and refusing to believe the artist when they say it isn't is in fact way more harmful than occasionally interacting with AI art. Also I just refuse to live like that rip to everyone else but I'm different.

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY doesn't care if faunus are viewed as an allegory for real world minorities. Faunus are magic hybrids of humans and animals - fairy tales in RWBY were always true. Hence, Blake is offered to become a human or a cat. Blake calls herself a cat because she is part cat. Ruby tells the red prince Blake is a faunus (the elf of the group) and the rest of them are humans because they are. Simple. RT: "I didn't come over here looking to solve systemic societal issues."

Then RT shouldn't have written a story in which they are actively and knowingly commenting on a systemic societal issue.

Yeah, this could have been the case. It's absolutely possible to write a version of RWBY where faunus are just #there and their animal characteristics in no way intersect with social justice. But RWBY didn't write that story. They explicitly introduced the faunus as victims of long-term discrimination. They're "second class citizens." "Animals" to be exploited, tortured, and discarded. There's nothing simple in writing a post-war decree that forces everyone with certain physical characteristics onto an isolated island away from the "superior" group. Or making your billionaire CEO target faunus for slave labor, including giving us one character who was branded. We're shown an extremist group fighting for their civil rights and the end message of that is, "They're fighting the wrong way not to be treated like they're disposable :/" RWBY introduced Weiss as a character who would compare Sun to a trash can and, what? We're really supposed to believe that he's just the "elf" of the group? It's a complete coincidence that the citizens of Remnant just happen to systematically target all the people with animal traits.

This isn't even the only time RWBY has explicitly woven social justice into its story. They had a main character lose her arm, introduced another with a metal body, a third that had lost half of his, and took all three on a journey that hinged on their disabilities. The entirety of the Atlas arc revolves around class and getting us to emotionally side with the victims of the rich elite. They've been teasing a queer ship for four years, but refusing to commit to it in a way that might piss off real life homophobes. Our fictional world supposedly wasn't grappling with the same discrimination... until May casually tossed out that she was disowned for being trans. The ENTIRETY of the story hinges on rooting for four young woman in a genre that has historically been dismissive of them and the go-to insult when someone disagrees with a reading is, "You just hate women, huh?"

RWBY is seeped in social issues. It's built on it. They're the freaking linchpin. The writers WANTED that because they understood that the best storytelling engages with real life concerns. But they didn't know how to approach these topics respectfully - they wanted the rewards of a "deep" story without carefully working out what they wanted to say about these topics - and the result is a franchise that's often more insulting than it is inspirational. After nearly a decade of that, RWBY doesn't get to suddenly backtrack because they fucked it up. They can't have their cake and eat it too. "We're a story about strong, empowered women, one of which is fighting for equal standing in her society, another who is grappling with disability, a third who is acknowledging her status as heir to a company that has done irreparable damage to her world and exacerbated class discrimination... but if that's not written well, don't worry about it! It's just a fun, silly story! Haha, why would you take a cartoon so seriously?"

RWBY has always wanted to be taken seriously but, you know, only when they're succeeding. If they mess up they want you to do them the courtesy of ignoring that which is... not how writing a paid for, public story consistently commenting on minority groups works.

[dwellordream]

“...A lone woman could, if she spun in almost every spare minute of her day, on her own keep a small family clothed in minimum comfort (and we know they did that). Adding a second spinner – even if they were less efficient (like a young girl just learning the craft or an older woman who has lost some dexterity in her hands) could push the household further into the ‘comfort’ margin, and we have to imagine that most of that added textile production would be consumed by the family (because people like having nice clothes!).

At the same time, that rate of production is high enough that a household which found itself bereft of (male) farmers (for instance due to a draft or military mortality) might well be able to patch the temporary hole in the family finances by dropping its textile consumption down to that minimum and selling or trading away the excess, for which there seems to have always been demand. ...Consequently, the line between women spinning for their own household and women spinning for the market often must have been merely a function of the financial situation of the family and the balance of clothing requirements to spinners in the household unit (much the same way agricultural surplus functioned).

Moreover, spinning absolutely dominates production time (again, around 85% of all of the labor-time, a ratio that the spinning wheel and the horizontal loom together don’t really change). This is actually quite handy, in a way, as we’ll see, because spinning (at least with a distaff) could be a mobile activity; a spinner could carry their spindle and distaff with them and set up almost anywhere, making use of small scraps of time here or there.

On the flip side, the labor demands here are high enough prior to the advent of better spinning and weaving technology in the Late Middle Ages (read: the spinning wheel, which is the truly revolutionary labor-saving device here) that most women would be spinning functionally all of the time, a constant background activity begun and carried out whenever they weren’t required to be actively moving around in order to fulfill a very real subsistence need for clothing in climates that humans are not particularly well adapted to naturally. The work of the spinner was every bit as important for maintaining the household as the work of the farmer and frankly students of history ought to see the two jobs as necessary and equal mirrors of each other.

At the same time, just as all farmers were not free, so all spinners were not free. It is abundantly clear that among the many tasks assigned to enslaved women within ancient households. Xenophon lists training the enslaved women of the household in wool-working as one of the duties of a good wife (Xen. Oik. 7.41). ...Columella also emphasizes that the vilica ought to be continually rotating between the spinners, weavers, cooks, cowsheds, pens and sickrooms, making use of the mobility that the distaff offered while her enslaved husband was out in the fields supervising the agricultural labor (of course, as with the bit of Xenophon above, the same sort of behavior would have been expected of the free wife as mistress of her own household).

...Consequently spinning and weaving were tasks that might be shared between both relatively elite women and far poorer and even enslaved women, though we should be sure not to take this too far. Doubtless it was a rather more pleasant experience to be the wealthy woman supervising enslaved or hired hands working wool in a large household than it was to be one of those enslaved women, or the wife of a very poor farmer desperately spinning to keep the farm afloat and the family fed. The poor woman spinner – who spins because she lacks a male wage-earner to support her – is a fixture of late medieval and early modern European society and (as J.S. Lee’s wage data makes clear; spinners were not paid well) must have also had quite a rough time of things.

It is difficult to overstate the importance of household textile production in the shaping of pre-modern gender roles. It infiltrates our language even today; a matrilineal line in a family is sometimes called a ‘distaff line,’ the female half of a male-female gendered pair is sometimes the ‘distaff counterpart’ for the same reason. Women who do not marry are sometimes still called ‘spinsters’ on the assumption that an unmarried woman would have to support herself by spinning and selling yarn (I’m not endorsing these usages, merely noting they exist).

E.W. Barber (Women’s Work, 29-41) suggests that this division of labor, which holds across a wide variety of societies was a product of the demands of the one necessarily gendered task in pre-modern societies: child-rearing. Barber notes that tasks compatible with the demands of keeping track of small children are those which do not require total attention (at least when full proficiency is reached; spinning is not exactly an easy task, but a skilled spinner can very easily spin while watching someone else and talking to a third person), can easily be interrupted, is not dangerous, can be easily moved, but do not require travel far from home; as Barber is quick to note, producing textiles (and spinning in particular) fill all of these requirements perfectly and that “the only other occupation that fits the criteria even half so well is that of preparing the daily food” which of course was also a female-gendered activity in most ancient societies. Barber thus essentially argues that it was the close coincidence of the demands of textile-production and child-rearing which led to the dominant paradigm where this work was ‘women’s work’ as per her title.

(There is some irony that while the men of patriarchal societies of antiquity – which is to say effectively all of the societies of antiquity – tended to see the gendered division of labor as a consequence of male superiority, it is in fact male incapability, particularly the male inability to nurse an infant, which structured the gendered division of labor in pre-modern societies, until the steady march of technology rendered the division itself obsolete. Also, and Barber points this out, citing Judith Brown, we should see this is a question about ability rather than reliance, just as some men did spin, weave and sew (again, often in a commercial capacity), so too did some women farm, gather or hunt. It is only the very rare and quite stupid person who will starve or freeze merely to adhere to gender roles and even then gender roles were often much more plastic in practice than stereotypes make them seem.)

Spinning became a central motif in many societies for ideal womanhood. Of course one foot of the fundament of Greek literature stands on the Odyssey, where Penelope’s defining act of arete is the clever weaving and unweaving of a burial shroud to deceive the suitors, but examples do not stop there. Lucretia, one of the key figures in the Roman legends concerning the foundation of the Republic, is marked out as outstanding among women because, when a group of aristocrats sneak home to try to settle a bet over who has the best wife, she is patiently spinning late into the night (with the enslaved women of her house working around her; often they get translated as ‘maids’ in a bit of bowdlerization. Any time you see ‘maids’ in the translation of a Greek or Roman text referring to household workers, it is usually quite safe to assume they are enslaved women) while the other women are out drinking (Liv. 1.57). This display of virtue causes the prince Sextus Tarquinius to form designs on Lucretia (which, being virtuous, she refuses), setting in motion the chain of crime and vengeance which will overthrow Rome’s monarchy. The purpose of Lucretia’s wool-working in the story is to establish her supreme virtue as the perfect aristocratic wife.

...For myself, I find that students can fairly readily understand the centrality of farming in everyday life in the pre-modern world, but are slower to grasp spinning and weaving (often tacitly assuming that women were effectively idle, or generically ‘homemaking’ in ways that precluded production). And students cannot be faulted for this – they generally aren’t confronted with this reality in classes or in popular culture. ...Even more than farming or blacksmithing, this is an economic and household activity that is rendered invisible in the popular imagination of the past, even as (as you can see from the artwork in this post) it was a dominant visual motif for representing the work of women for centuries.”

- Bret Devereaux, “Clothing, How Did They Make It? Part III: Spin Me Right Round…”

[bitchesgetriches]

Hi bitches, I'm a bit nervous to ask this but I'm being genuine I promise. I don't want you to think I'm some biggoted old fool.

Could you please help me understand how sex work isn't exploitative? I hear a lot of people saying "it's just the same as normal work, it's better than my job at Amazon/target/wherever and no one is calling that work exploitative" or "well you wouldn't do YOUR job if you didn't have to either" but like, checkout work IS hella exploitative??? Most work IS hella bullshit that only exists to feed the capitalist machine. I DO fight for a world where work is a choice. I understand why The Right would love onlyfans, but why is The Left lining up to defend it?

Sex work - especially things like onlyfans - is overwhelmingly done by the poor or as a way to escape poverty ("I was being paid shit in my previous job, now I can afford an apartment" is something I hear a lot). But in doing so it transfers all the risks to them, it's essentially turning sex work into the gig/hustle economy, isn't it? You end up on a zero hour contract with no union, health, benefit, maternity protection, in a job that can be hella dangerous and have serious emotional repercussions and requires huge emotional labour and/or disconnect and I don't really understand why we're just cheering this along?

I don't object on moral grounds. Sex is sex. Consenting adults do what you want. People are well within their moral and legal rights to choose to sell sex, (or the emotional labour that comes with it), or photos, or whatever they want - just like they are free to go work for target. I absolutely understand the need to - and support - decriminalisation of sex work, the need to make it safe and secure for sex workers, but I just can't see why ~the world at large~ sees huge numbers of young 18 year old women being herded and encouraged into joining Onlyfans - in several cases with people saying "can't wait for you to turn 18 so you can have an OF" so the patriarchy can pay £3-4 a month to see their tits and people cheer this along? One or two get rich, I'm sure, but who is getting REALLY rich? It's the old white men that own onlyfans and take a 20% cut, as always. It's the patriarchy working as it always has. Allowing one or two women to succeed while holding the rest down for exploitation. Except now it's mixing with the worst bits of 21st C capitalism, too. Surely all OnlyFans is is Uber for Sex work, using the gig economy to de-unionise and isolate workers, strip them of benefits, make them into independent contractors and profit off them?

Sure, it's a step up from kidnapping girls from Romania to have them do porn, but is that really the bar? Can we maybe just stop for a second and imagine a world where rich white men don't get richer off the emotional and physical labour of women? Where the other available work options aren't so shit that a zero-hour career with no employment protections, a limited lifespan, in a dangerous industry doesnt look like heaven in comparison? Sure, you can work for three years, sell your emotional labour, and pay for college. But why are we cheering that instead of asking why this has to happen in the first place? We're fiddling around the edges of the system, giving it a makeover, and rebadging it "female empowerment" instead of actually changing anything fundamental. Poor women sell sex. A few are allowed to break out. Men get to leer at naked women for pennies a year. Rich men get richer. Plus ça change. Not even to mention that because of the ~emotional~ connection that onlyfans gives beyond porn, we're embedding the idea that women are "money in, girlfriend out" machines. I know several girls that won't even *talk* to men in any situation without a minimum $50 fee. And apparently the fact we also have a crisis of men so lonely they're willing to pay this isn't a problem either? Where's our luxury communism dreams bitches?

Bitches, I trust you. What am I missing?

I don’t think you’re a bigoted old fool. Nor a prude! I think you’re incredibly enlightened about the dangers of unfettered capitalism and labor exploitation.

Almost all of the issues you highlight about exploitative sex work can be said about exploitative labor in any industry. Poor people taking shitty jobs that don’t pay enough and enrich capitalist, patriarchal corporate overlords? That happens all over the world in industries from meat packing to clothing sweat shops to, yes, sex work. The exploitation of a person’s body for labor is an ethical stain on our culture at large. It’s why we’re so in favor of labor rights advances including a higher minimum wage, unions, and humane work environments. 

Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make Our Lives Better 

Are Unions Good or Bad? 

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights 

Sex work is not unique in that it opens desperate and poor people up to labor exploitation. It’s not even uniquely dangerous to the bodies of workers--John Oliver did a bit on the US meat packing industry recently that made me faint with body horror. 

So we agree that labor exploitation is bad. And it’s something that we should work towards ending in every industry. But I can see why some people would view exploitative sex work to be a different kind of bad. Because sex is sensitive! It can be used to punish and hurt. See revenge porn and the way synonyms for “sex worker” are stigmatized and used as insults throughout society. 

Now, a few clarifications. When I refer to sex work, I’m not just talking about cam work on OnlyFans. There are lots of other outlets for many different kinds of sex work. And I’m also not just talking about women sex workers. People of all gender identities and sexualities do sex work, and we should advocate for fair labor practices and safety for all of them. I am firmly pro- decriminalizing sex work so that the industry can be made safe, regulated, and destigmatized in an effort to reduce exploitation. I want sex workers to have the power of collective bargaining! I want them to be protected by law enforcement and our justice system, instead of targeted by it! I want them to pay taxes and have the privileges associated with all tax paying workers! I want them to have the power and protection of a regulatory industry that will purge abusive and violent clients from their field!

I also disagree with the characterization that choosing sex work freely, even out of desperation, is a “step up from kidnapping a girl from Romania to have them do porn.” Human trafficking is not sex work. It’s slavery and torture. Even when the choice is between making $7.25 an hour working at WalMart and making $7.25 as a cam girl, there’s still a choice involved, even if it’s a shitty one. There’s consent. Trafficking victims have no choice, no consent, only violence. 

I honestly don’t want to start a debate here. We’re all on the same page that labor exploitation is bad. So I’ll just end with this: not all sex work is inherently exploitative. Which I guess is your real question!

I’ve mentioned before that I have friends who are former sex workers. Specifically strippers and a specialty dominatrix. As with any job, they had their ups and downs, their good nights and bad nights. But they all agree that they freely chose the work not out of desperation or a lack of other options. And they even enjoyed the work in some cases. If someone prefers sex work, thrives in giving that emotional labor to others, I’m not going to judge and I’m certainly not going to tell them they’re being exploited. It would frankly be insulting, condescending, to tell someone that their choice of work (when it truly is a choice) is bad for them. 

It’s a fine line, but the line does exist. Sex work CAN BE exploitative. But it is not inherently exploitative, as far as I’m concerned. 

[stillness-in-green]

Ahistorical, Absurd, and Unsustainable (Introduction and Part One)

An Examination of the Mass Arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front

INTRODUCTION

The title states my premise here: the breezy way My Hero Academia presents and resolves the mass arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front is ludicrous. If taken as presented and allowed to stand without being further addressed, it serves as a breaking point from which the series will be incredibly hard-pressed to recover. Why, you ask?

From a logistical standpoint, it strains credulity. From an ethical standpoint, it suggests deeply troubling problems with the state of Hero Society. From a thematic standpoint, it unravels whole portions of the narrative’s spine. I’ll be looking at each of these facets in turn to discuss the questions they raise which My Hero Academia has not yet seen fit to answer. Many in fandom don’t seem to be thinking about it too hard, so I’d like to lay out—in exhaustive detail—all the reasons I find this plot element so wildly out of touch with causal reality.

Please note that while they are discussed when relevant, this essay is not principally about the named characters in the League of Villains or the erstwhile high command of the Metahuman Liberation Army. The sorts of consequences Shigaraki Tomura or Re-Destro would and should be facing in a courtroom are orders of magnitude beyond what Random Liberation Warrior X would be, but it’s the mass numbers of Random Liberation Warrior Xs that this essay is most concerned with, as they are the ones most in danger of being swept under a rug and forgotten by the series in its current state.

Further, be advised that this essay in its full form is both very long (about 21K words excluding Sources and Further Reading) and will contain extensive discussion of real-life Japan—comparisons to historical events, minutiae of its legal and carceral systems, and general cultural views on criminality. This will include references to imprisonment, government oppression, and incidents of terrorism both real and in the context of My Hero Academia.

Being as it is about quite a recent event in the series, it will also contain heavy spoilers all the way up through the most recent chapter as of this writing, Chapter 310. It likewise contains spoilers for the spin-off series My Hero Academia: Vigilantes up through Chapter 95.

The essay will be posted in parts on tumblr and in full on AO3. For the tumblr posting, I will provide links to other tumblr posts as I reference them; however, as I would like this to actually show up in the tags, outside links containing my sources and further reading will be provided in a separate post following the conclusion of the essay.

Lastly, I spent an entire month writing this as a fan who is sympathetic to the villains in general and the MLA in particular. If your response to the very concept of this essay is anything to the tune of, “Who cares what happens to a bunch of disgusting quirk eugenicists?” know that you and I have radically different views on the MLA, and the role of the justice system in general. You are, of course, welcome to read the essay anyway, but, having said my piece about the MLA and their relationship with quirk supremacy elsewhere, I will not be engaging with arguments or gotchas on that subject here.

PART ONE: The Facts at Hand

Before we get too deep into things, let’s lay out the basic facts: how many people are actually involved in the arrest, as well as some comparisons to real-life events to contextualize that number and provide some referents for the issues the arrest raises.

Re-Destro gives the numbers of the Metahuman Liberation Army as 116,516. A lot of people go on to die in Deika, though we’re never given a solid count. The biggest batch we see killed in a single go are the press of sixty or so people Shigaraki decays, then the sixteen-ish Toga drops, though some of those might possibly have had quirks that allowed them to survive. Any number of people certainly died as well simply in the moments we didn’t see, and who even knows how many were caught in the radius of Shigaraki’s last attack.

Further, there may well have been a measure of organization bleed when the MLA became the PLF (though I imagine trying to leave was a very dangerous proposition, giving an additional reason to stick it out on top of the general cult-like mindset the MLA displays); likewise, I find it hard to believe that there wouldn’t have been some deaths at the Gunga Villa, be it from Gigantomachia’s departure, Geten cutting loose, or combatants—be they hero or comrade—overcompensating somewhat in the middle of a chaotic melee.

I suspect it’s overestimating the depletion, but for the purposes of simplicity, let us call it 115,000 remaining members at the time of the raid.[1]

We are told that, in all, 16,929 people were captured at the villa—just about 17,000. 132 escaped in the confusion; this is a fairly negligible number, save for the fact that it includes high-ranking advisors, but not Machia and those of the Front that were with him.

We are further told, and I quote, “Their bases scattered around the country were hit too, and the sympathizers rounded up.” Horikoshi did not provide any solid numbers for this,[2] but if we’re to assume that it is just the rest of the group (more on the logistics of that bit of spycraft later), “the sympathizers” would be 98,000 additional people.

However, 98,000 may be a significant underestimation. It’s based, after all, on a number Re-Destro cites to describe “warriors lying in wait, ready to rise to action.” This begs the question: is Re-Destro quoting the entire membership of the group, or only those who actually are ready to take action? In other words, does his number account for non-combatants? Is he counting young children? I tend to assume the MLA doesn't have a retirement age as such,[3] but if they do, does his number account for the elderly?

How many more people might be “sympathizers” to the PLF insomuch as they are e.g. the six-month-old infant daughter of an MLA couple? What about the ninety-year-old man in the retirement home whose only real act of war these days is tying up the phone line at City Hall to complain about repressive quirk use laws? How about the fired-up fifteen-year-old that was going to get their official code name next month, just in time to join the first wave of attacks? If he’s being literal in his usage of “warrior,” the actual count of the MLA could easily be twice as high as the number he actually gives.

But okay, maybe Re-Destro’s number does include absolutely everyone. Maybe he’s just being rhetorical—maybe, in his mind, even the six-month-old is waiting to rise to action; she’s just going to have to wait a bit longer than the rest, is all. For simplicity’s sake, let’s stick with the numbers we have: a low-end of 17,000, a high-end of 115,000, captured not merely in a single day, but allegedly in the span of a few hours.

I’m sure I don’t need to stress that that is a lot of people. But how many people is it, practically speaking? Is there a precedent? Anything we can look to for guidance on how this kind of thing would go in real life?

Comparative Analogues

The PLF is tricky to categorize for the purposes of real-life comparison, especially compared to how they’re treated in-universe. In some lights, they resemble a protest movement; in others, a terrorist group. Just looking at the way the government reacts to them—and certainly in terms of their combat capabilities—they might as well be an all-out insurrectionist uprising! Below, I’ll examine a handful of historical incidents that cover that spectrum; they will continue to provide useful reference points throughout the rest of this essay.

The March 15 Incident

In the first half of the 20th century, Japan saw a huge uptick in socialist and communist activity, much to the general dismay of the ruling powers. In response, they passed a series of laws commonly referred to as the Peace Preservation Laws, designed to better enable authorities to suppress political dissent and freedom of speech, particularly that of leftists and labor movements.

The Japanese Communist Party was founded in 1922, but outlawed in 1925. This merely drove members underground, however, from which position they pointed supporters towards the numerous other parties with more legally tolerated leftist policies that had cropped up in the wake of the JCP’s dissolution. Following the February 1928 General Election (the first in Japan held with universal male suffrage), those parties supported by the JCP saw enormous gains in representation in Japan’s National Diet. Alarmed, the Prime Minister declared the mass arrest of known communists and suspected communist sympathizers. Accordingly, on March 15, 1,600 people were arrested throughout Japan.

Over the course of twenty years, some 70,000 people would be arrested under the auspices of the Peace Preservation Laws, the majority of them in 1925 through 1936. The laws would eventually be repealed by American occupation forces after WWII, and the JCP allowed to operate openly once again.

The Rice Riots

In 1918, an inflation spiral had driven the price of rice out of control, exacerbating economic insecurity and hardship. Farmers were being paid a pittance of the market value of their crop by rice buyers and government agents, while urban consumers were being charged an exorbitant price for the staple food, as well as a great many other consumer goods, and their own rents. In response, a series of riots ripped across Japan in late July through September. Beginning with peaceful protesting in a small fishing town in Toyama Prefecture, the unrest escalated to involve riots, strikes, looting, even bombing in demonstrations that reached major cities like Tokyo and Osaka. The scope was and remains unprecedented in modern Japanese history, seeing some 25,000 people arrested.

The Sarin Gas Attacks

If you’ve heard of any of them, it’s probably this one. On March 20, 1995, members of the cult Aum Shinrikyo released sarin gas on five different Tokyo Metro trains in the middle of morning rush hour. Thirteen people were killed and over 5500 injured, about a fifth of them moderately to severely so. If not for small errors in the production of the gas and the rudimentary distribution method thereof, loss of life might easily have been catastrophically higher.

Aum Shinrikyo was a doomsday cult, but the motives for that particular attack were much baser than bringing about the Apocalypse: at the time, the organization was under police investigation for its involvement in the kidnapping of a public official. Its leader, Asahara Shoukou, hoped that the attack would divert police’s attention from a planned raid.

It did not do so; police executed raids on numerous of the cult’s compounds, arresting many of its senior members both immediately and over the course of the following months as the investigation unfolded. In all, over 200 members were arrested of an organization that counted its membership prior to the attack as numbering 11,000 people in Japan.[4]

The February 26 Incident

There have been a significant number of uprisings and violent protests in Japan’s modern history; when looking for a representative example, I focused my attention on the military coups of the 1930s and 40s, largely because they took place in what was closest to the modern Japanese legal context.[5] Of that subset, I chose the February 26 Incident for the severity of the government response. The others disintegrated before they could be properly carried out or were met with sympathy for the dissidents despite the obvious illegality of their actions. The February 26 Incident, however, was when they finally became too troublesome to dismiss, and the Emperor himself ran out of patience.

In this period, the Japanese military had become drastically factionalized into two main groups—an ultra-nationalist group, largely powered by a group of young officers, which supported the Emperor and wanted to purge Japan of Western influences, and a more moderate group mainly defined by their opposition to the above faction.[6] Occurring in 1936, the February 26 Incident involved the young officers, believing that they had tacit approval from higher-ranked officers of their own faction, launching assassination attempts against the nationalists’ most prominent enemies in the government (six assorted Ministers and former Ministers in the Emperor’s Privy Council and the Diet) and a bid to seize control of the administrative center of the capital and the Imperial Palace, after which they planned to demand the dismissal of more officers and the selection of a new Cabinet.

The seven ringleaders had convinced eighteen other officers to lend their forces to the attempted coup, a total of around 1,500 men, calling themselves the Righteous Army. Several of their assassination attempts failed, however, and while they succeeded at taking the Prime Minister’s residence and the Ministry of War, they did not manage to secure the Palace. The outraged Cabinet demanded the Emperor take a hard line with the rebels, and by the 29th, the Righteous Army was surrounded by 20,000 government troops and 22 tanks. In this hopeless situation, the officers dismissed their troops; two committed suicide (a third attempted it unsuccessfully) and the remainder were arrested by military police.

International Examples

For obvious reasons, I prefer to limit my examples to events that happened in Japan. However, I will also be briefly referring to a few international incidents of mass arrest, taking place in India, the U.S., and Egypt, respectively.

In the following parts, I'll use these facts and comparative analogues to take a closer look at what readers were told became of the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Part Two

-----------------------------------------------------

Footnotes (Part One)—

[1] Over three months’ time, they likely gained some new blood also, simply in the course of their usual recruitment tactics. You don’t get an underground organization that size by sitting back and waiting for people to come to you, after all. I don’t know a practical way to calculate that, though, so just bear it in mind for when I talk about new members later.

[2] Possibly because he was aware that 17,000 people captured in one fell swoop was difficult enough to swallow without adding on more than five times that number.

[3] We do, after all, see some very aged people fighting in the streets of Deika.

[4] They were considerably more international than you may have heard. They had 50,000 members at the time, some 30,000 of them based in Russia.

[5] The Meiji Constitution was ratified in 1889; universal suffrage (for men) was granted in 1925. The modern constitution was enacted in 1947.

[6] More moderate, mind, in the context of the Imperial Japanese military. Neither of these factions had any time whatsoever for leftist movements, hence all those suppressive crackdowns.

[justcourttee]

Trigger warning: After posting one too many of Lila’s lies, the ladyblog faces severe backlash and lawsuits. One of the recent is from a respected journalist that Lila lied about being friends with their kid. Alya is facing defamation and the journalists Child had recently passed away further upsetting the latter. Alya tried to explain, but Lila quickly throws her under the bus. This is not Bashing, except actions have consequences and have to live with them. Lila salt is welcome though

I hope this is kind of what you were thinking about. I did my best to keep it as accurate as I could with French Law :)

Here

Alya couldn’t believe she was here.

As she stared at the multitude of cameras, all vying for her attention, she felt the sudden need to make herself smaller. Nino’s strong hand on her back, urging her forward gave her the strength she needed to make it up the courthouse steps. Her eyes scanned the crowd looking for one person in particular but alas, they were nowhere to be seen.

Instead, she found two people she had hoped would miss this little event. Front row stood Marinette and Adrien, they’re eyes feigned with concern as she took the last step before the entrance. If only she could reach them, get them to testify on her behalf, but why would they change their minds now? It’s not like she hadn’t begged them too at the beginning of the month before everything had gone south so quickly.

As the doors were opened, the blinding light subsided as she was quickly ushered to a small room away from her adversaries that had lined the hallways, all ready to testify against her. She couldn’t believe how many there were.

“We should be safe here Miss Césaire, you didn’t talk to anybody on your way in, right? Journalists are like sharks, one small taste of blood and they’ll turn it into a frenzy.”

Alya scoffed at her attorney. She knew how journalism worked. You needed to make the story big and eye-catching otherwise nobody would bother to read it. It’s why she loved Lila so much. With her, the LadyBlog never had a dull moment.

“We have thirty minuted to prepare. Normally, they would not allow this public prosecution, but you and your friend have managed to upset a lot of people, Miss Césaire.”

Alya bit her tongue as she sunk lower in her seat. Where was her friend now? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “All rise for the honorable Judge Bethany Abadie.”

Alya stood slowly, trying not to let her stance waver as the sound of dozens of cameras sounded through the room.

“You may be seated.”

She felt a small hand lightly press down on her shoulder as her attorney tried to get her to sit, but she couldn’t. She felt frozen in place. Seeing the judge made everything feel so real and not seeing her made Alya see red.

“Miss Césaire, I suggest you sit down. Your charges today are quite serious under the eyes of French law and with the number of people attempting to sue your website, you better hope your defense team has an ace up their sleeve.”

It was like something snapped inside of her as she curled in on herself, trying her best to disappear in front of the courtroom.

“Now, let’s get started. In the case of the people of France vs. Alya Césaire, the defendant is charged with defamation of character and defamation of the deceased. How does the defendant plead?”

“Not guilty, your honor.”

Her eyes wandered over to her defense attorney who looked no better than she did when the words came out of his mouth.

“I see, you were given an option to accept the price that the collective individuals offered you in addition to taking down your blog, instead you chose to fight their lawsuits. You do realize Miss Césaire that if the jury finds you guilty on these charges, that could mean up to a year in jail in addition to €12.000 per assailant?”

Alya mustered enough strength to nod much to the judge's dismay.

“Very well then, the prosecution team may lead with their first witness.”

One by one, every scoop she had posted unfolded and crumbled before her eyes. Jagged Stone denying writing a song for her friend, denying ever having a ‘filthy feline’. Clara Nightingale denying her friend’s involvement in any of her choreography, claiming it would be child labor. And worse of all, Nadja Chamack and her claim that her friend never knew her daughter, that Alya saying her child was brash and rude and an overall unpleasant kid was defamation.

“And what proof do you have that my client isn’t telling lies about your daughter, you do know that every child is different when they’re away from their parents.”

Alya breathed a sigh of relief as her attorney laid into the reporter. Just maybe, she had a chance of walking out of here unscathed.

“Because she’s dead.”

An eerie silence fell over the courtroom as Alya’s face ashened. No. That couldn’t be true. She had seen Manon the other day. She just knew she had. She went over to Marinette’s and the girl was there, as bratty as ever. But now she couldn’t remember the last time she had been to Marinette’s.

“How long has she been dead?”

“Councilman, I object!” The judge’s hammer slammed down, echoing throughout the room.

“No, no, it’s alright. Those two monsters need to hear what they put me through.”

Nadja met Alya’s eyes, not even bothering to wipe the tears that streamed down her face as righteous anger poured into her stare.

“My daughter died five months ago, a terrible car accident. I begged my team to leave it out of the report and only told my closest friends and family. The funeral was a week later and my heart remained shattered at the thought that some reckless driver hadn’t paid attention to her crossing the crosswalk, just like I had taught her.”

Nadja took a breath, trying to level her voice as the lump in Alya’s throat grew bigger.

“Three months ago, I ran across the Ladyblog. While it had mostly turned into a gossip column for this Lila Rossi person, I used to check it all the time when it had just started out. I honestly considered Alya as the next big reporter as she was always at the scene throwing herself into danger to get the scoop. It was admirable.”

Her praises caused the girl to flinch as if she had been struck.

“But as I clicked on the newest video labeled ‘Angel or Devil?: Is Manon Chamack really as everyone believes her to be?’, my heart immediately sank. Both girls sat on-screen as Lila Rossi went on for ten whole minutes about the time she babysat Manon during my interview with Prince Ali. She said my baby was a horror show and Alya agreed saying the few times she had helped Marinette were nightmares.”

Nadja lost her composure as the final word fell out of her mouth. Her tears were ugly as she barely managed an audible ‘could I be excused?’. The judge nodded calling for a recess before allowing the defense team to call their testimonies on character, but Alya couldn’t move. Nadja’s face was burned into her mind. She waited until the courtroom was cleared before standing, trying her best to swallow the lump in her throat but to no avail.

As her feet trudged behind her attorney, she kept replaying Marinette’s words from the beginning of the month.

‘You don’t want me to be expert testimony to your character because I’ll tell them the truth. And I’d doubt you’d like that very much at all.’

She couldn’t understand where all that anger had come from, all that pain, but now she did. Alya didn’t even want to know what her attorney had up his sleeve because honestly? She felt like she didn’t deserve a defense at all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Only one testimony?”

Her attorney nodded weakly as the judge sighed, probably already having determined Alya’s fate. She knew if it was her up there looking down on someone else, she would have given the maximum punishment the court allowed.

“The defense calls to the stand Lila Rossi.”

Alya sat up straight in her seat, her blood running cold as the sly fox breezily took the stand. Her smirk was brief and directed toward the auburn-haired girl, but it dropped into fake sympathy, a single forced tear rolling down her face.

“What can you tell us about Alya Césaire?”

“Oh goodness, where do I start?” Lila brought a tissue up to her eyes, lightly dabbing at the nonexistent tears.

“She coerced me into telling all those terrible lies about the good people of Paris. Every single one of my interviews was typed up and rehearsed several times before we even shot the tape. Here’s the proof,” With a fake sob, she handed the judge several transcripts, all seemingly printed from Lila’s email.

Alya clenched her fists underneath the table. She was lying. Straight through her teeth. Alya was wondering how Lila managed to evade the charges that were on both of them, but here it was lying in front of her. Lila was going to throw her under the bus.

“She’s a monster. She ditched her own best friend because she wouldn’t lie for her on the stand. She threatened to make everyone hate me if I didn’t keep up the lies. She knew about my disease and took advantage of it.”

Alya gritted her teeth as her attorney tried his best to get the girl off the stand, but it was too late. The damage had been done. One look at the jury and Alya knew. She was done for. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . …

The jury took a whole thirty minutes before they returned with her verdict.

Guilty.

€48.000 to settle each lawsuit, the permanent closure of her LadyBlog, and 300 hours of community service. Lila received none of it.

“That’s not fair!”

Alya’s head whipped around to where the voice came from, her eyes landing on her former best friend.

“Young lady, I advise that you sit down and allow this court to adjourn peacefully. The verdict has been decided.”

“But Lila was just as much a part of this as Alya. In fact, if you even bothered to look at the interviews, Lila egged her on, there’s no way it was all scripted. Scrub Alya’s computer, I bet you won’t find a single email.”

“Young lady, I’ll give you one more chance, Sit down.”

Marinette opened her mouth, but she abruptly closed it when she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. Her gaze shifted down to where Alya stood, a small smile peeking through her tears.

“Thank you Marinette, I really do appreciate it, but it’s time I took responsibility. I should have never trusted her too good to be true stories in the first place. I should have never hurt my best friend in the first place.”

Marinette hesitated, but as she stared into the auburn-haired girls glassy eyes, she understood as well. With a nod, she returned to her spot between Adrien and Nino, her own eyes glazing over as she watched her former best friend escorted out by her attorney and a few cops.

Once more, Alya was blinded by the flashing lights as she was ushered to her attorney’s car. As the doors shut firmly, her attorney released a sigh before jumbling his keys around, trying to find the ignition.

“Well, it could’ve gone worse if we’re honest here.”

Alya didn’t bother to respond. She simply stared out the window, her mind racing at a thousand miles a minute. Only one thought stood prominent above the rest.

Alya couldn’t believe she was here.

[razorblade180]

Shackles Finale: Free

[Part 12]

Destiny is a fickle thing. For some it’s real, and for others it’s as fake as fairy tales. No matter what however, time still goes on. Things still happen. Ruby was never one to think too hard on the topic despite all she’s been through. However, as she walked into Menagerie’s hospital soaking wet from the extreme downpour happening in the middle of the night, Ruby couldn’t help but wonder if it was destiny to test everyone’s resolve; or karma coming to collect.

Her self imposed mission had been going well. Adam cooperated, Blake planned ahead, and things progressed steadily. It should’ve stayed like that for three more months. Unfortunately things don’t always go as planned. Jacquelyn went into labor early, too early. The woman woke up today looking fit as a fiddle. Who could’ve guessed she would be fighting for her life today? Her, and her daughter?

Hospital staff were in a frenzy from the storm just like the public. It made getting to the back where everyone was without suspicion easy for Ruby. Certain doctors were notified ahead of time of the complexities of their patient and precautions had already been in place for Jacquelyn and company to have no disturbances. Though nobody factored in an unhealthy birth creating this island’s worst storms to date. Ruby made it to the sealed off waiting room. What should’ve been a haven of calm was another conflict. Blake stood arms folded and ears back in the way of guards and her conflicted father while Adam sat behind her, silent.

“You know I expected more from you, Saber. That goes double for you dad.”

The man frowned. “Blake, this wasn’t my-”

“We have held our end of the agreement.” Saber interjected, “Adam was to be free until the child was born. Not my problem that day came early.”

Blake grit her teeth. “You know damn well that’s not why I’m standing here right now!” She said through her teeth. His kid had just been born moments ago and just like that, she was rushed to intensive care. Meanwhile Jacquelyn was slipping in and out, her body failing her during the labor. “Let him see this through.”

“What good would it do him to hear terrible news? He’ll lash out for all we know. That can not happen in a hospital!”

“You just want to kick him while he’s down!”

“AND FOR GOOD REASON!”

Okay, Ruby had enough. “HEY!” She yelled, gaining everyone’s attention. She brushed her wet hair out of her face. “I set up generators across the island. No one's gonna lose power. I also told people Menagerie’s guards were making their rounds to make sure everyone was accounted for. I don’t mean to overstep being an outsider and all but…” her eyes burrowed into Saber’s “Get to work.” It wasn’t kind or even right necessarily, but Ruby didn’t care.

Feeling the pressure, Saber made the wise decision to take his people and leave. Ghira looked at Blake with guilt in his eyes for letting it get this far. “Listen I-”

“You know I understand mom not wanting anything to do with this, but I didn’t expect this from you. It’s like you’re trying to create every reason to push him back into old habits and make all this worthless. We will hold up our end of the bargain, so teach them what you tell me and have some patience.”

Ghira didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. There was caution, and then there was insensitivity. He had no words, just a nod before walking away.

Ruby grabbed his arm in passing. “She knows this wasn’t your call. Blake is stressed. Your house still has power. Ilia is with Kali trying to calm down Sienna and Sun is helping check on people. Maybe you should go home too?” Ruby smiled softly. She knew a worried father when she saw one. Ghira needed something to do.

“I appreciate the concern Mrs. Rose, but I think I’ll just stand guard outside this room.”

“Understood, and hey, things will work themselves out.” Ruby let him go and headed from one worried feline to the next. “You know he’s not to blame right? He’s just…trying to keep everyone connected.”

Blake let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I know that, and I also know he’s not going to lose me. But right now I really need everyone to not jump the gun. Thanks for keeping the peace. Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to your leadership skills.”

“I just got snippy with faunus officers on their own island. Really testing my boundaries with my status as an important huntress across Remnant.” Ruby patted Blake on the back. “You should go check in on the doctors. I’ll do my job watching our person of interest.”

“Okay.” Blake looked back at Adam. He stayed quiet throughout all of this, eyes closed and arms crossed. He must’ve figured the best thing he could do right now is not look threatening. “I’ll let you know first if anything changes okay?”

He still didn’t move but that didn’t stop him from speaking. “Thank you.” He heard Blake run off in a hurry while the sound of chair legs rubbed the ground in front of him. Adam opened his one good eye and saw Ruby sitting in front of him with her scroll in hand.

“You know…I can’t remember when a day has felt this long.” Ruby sighed, “Moments like these is enough to just make you want stop time ya know?”

“I don’t need sympathy.”

“Wasn’t giving any. Just venting I guess. My husband sent me a text. I’m missing a very important arrival today; not that it’s your fault by any means. I just know it’s gonna be grounds for a conversation later that might get feisty, again.”

Adam could see how tired Ruby was. The normally energetic woman was leaning back in her seat, eyes closed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t take long missions then?”

“Pfft nah. I don’t regret helping where I can. Besides I didn’t know until after I took the mission. Things will work themselves out though. That’s how family works. Believe in each other and the impossible happens.”

“I know what you’re doing. It’s not gonna work. Just stop talking okay?”

Ruby pursed her lips. Years of leadership didn’t prepare her talks like these. She had to say something though. It was hard to explain, but Ruby could feel the importance of this moment. Good or bad news, bottling this up would make anyone go insane. Ruby reached down her shirt and lifted her necklace. It was a silver cross with red roses wrapped around it. She took it off and dangled it on her fingers, scooting closer to Adam.

“My dad and uncle gave this to me on my birthday. They said…sometimes you need a piece of faith when you don’t have any yourself. I’m not really religious but apparently my mom used to pray after she knew there was nothing left she could do herself. Hehe, it’s a Rose mentality.” Ruby put it in Adam’s hand and curled it. “Don’t tell anyone this, but it’s pretty cool that you are your own kind of rose. Makes me feel like we’re connected in a way. Keep that. I know it’ll fit you.”

Adam remained quiet. He stared down at the trinket in his hand until his vision blurred. His body trembled. Slowly he clenched the cross. “I have no right to pray for anything. If destiny or whatever you want to call it exists then it’s only fair I get punished.”

Ruby frowned, “Hey that’s-” she cut herself short, not expecting Adam to put his other hand over the cross; his forehead pressing against them as he closed his eyes.

“Punish me.” He uttered weakly. “Me, not them. Leave everyone else out of it.” The first and only prayer he’ll ever make. His life could be at destiny’s whim forever as long as the ones who fought for him didn’t get burned.

Ruby stood from her seat and knelt down, grabbing his hands and joining the prayer. All while Ghira watched silently from the entrance.

For several hours, It was out of everyone’s hands. A roll of the dice, luck of the draw, fate, gods, destiny, whatever anyone wanted to call it; that was the only thing left and no one dared to keep track of the time out of anxiety. It was a scary, humbling feeling for certain. It was also the purest reminder that life wasn’t fair. Bad things happen to good people, hard work is left with nothing, and sometimes… a sinner’s prayers get heard.

The doors flung open with Blake breathless. “Adam…” she panted, eyes bigger than the smile on her face. “She’s-” the tears shed caught her off guard. The two roses stared blankly before Adam stood. Blake moved out of the doorway and he took it as a sign. ‘Run.’ Adam ran and no one dared to stop him.

“Back room.” Blake said, walking to her father. Ruby got up as well and joined the two. Blake looked at the red faced girl. The feline giggled softly while wiping Ruby’s tears. “And here I thought I knew how big your heart was?”

Ruby laughed as she tried to stop sniffling. “It’s not what it looks like. Seeing him sit there with his demons like that, it reminded me of how my dad and uncle qrow used to look when mom was brought up. Sorry, got a little compromised.”

“Welcome to the club. Dad, sorry I-”

Ghira wrapped his arm around Blake. “Don’t apologize. I tell you to take things slow and yet I tried rushing to the end of this. I’m sorry. I can’t say what lies in store for Adam next, but I suppose…I’ll have to keep more of an open mind. He’s earned that much.”

Ruby shook her head and sighed. “If I’m being honest, personally I think everyone has been a bit silly. Including my lovable sis. You all make it sound like he’s been trouble free for six months when that isn’t the case. I can’t say if he’s been perfect or not but the fact that Remnant thinks he died at Argus has to mean something, right? I certainly can’t link him to any world threatening incidents since then. He’s been minding his business for a couple years now. Is locking him up really gonna change anything? I mean it wouldn’t matter if Cinder was in or out of jail for me. I’d still be wary and pissed. Your men’s feelings about him wouldn’t change because of a cell. But hey, that’s just me.”

Ruby put her hands behind her hand and walked off. “I’m gonna step out for a moment and make a call.” She looked out a window. To her surprise, the rain had stopped. Ruby dialed Yang’s number. “Hey sis! Beautiful day to start a family. So, what’s my precious little niece’s name?”

xxxx

Adam reached the back room and pushed the door open to find Jacquelyn in bed, startled by his entrance before giving him a grin. Her skin had a sickly yellow dinge to it and she was covered in sweat. Still she smiled, holding a small infant as doctors looked at vitals and did their work.

“Awe, have you been crying? I’m sorry. Guess we gave you a fright.”

One of the nurses looked at the maiden like she was crazy. “Ma’am you slipped into a coma. Please don’t try and move around much.”

“I was a little tired, that's all. Heh…guess we finally found something I’m not good at? That’s un- oh…” Adam put his arms around her and the baby. Odd, to think he could hold something this gently? His presence soothed her into leaning into the embrace, humming quietly to both him and the new arrival. A premature baby with red hair, and tiny horns.

The doctor, naturally sworn to confidentiality, watched from the sidelines. “I’d like to congratulate you with confidence, but these two aren’t out of the woods yet. While I expect Jacquelyn to bounce back with time, your daughter is pretty frail. We have her stable for the time being but the heart is a complex organ even when fully developed. We’re going to have to keep her for a while just to make sure she’ll grow up healthy. Rest assured, I will do everything in my power for her.”

“Thank you.” Adam looked at his daughter’s round face. She opened her eyes to reveal two pools or bright blue. “Hmmm.”

“Something wrong?” Jacquelyn asked.

“She’ll have a hard time, with these features going for her. I was hoping she’d look more like you.”

“Oh hush. She’s beautiful like this. Though maybe I am a little jealous she doesn’t have my hair. Still, real big fan of those eyes.” She kissed his cheek. “We’ll do our best and then some.”

The doctor pulled out some paperwork. “Now then, I’m going to need a name. Her record won’t be too expensive in terms of…background history, but she’ll need the basics as best as possible. Especially in her condition.”

“Wanna name her after your mother, or even your sister?”

Adam shook his head, “I think we already have enough namesakes. Let her be free from that. You decide. I was never really good at these kinds of things.”

“Oooo okay. Don’t come crying later if you think of a good one. A free spirited name for our little kid.” Jacquelyn giggled to herself. “Got it. How about we name her…”

“Hehe, That’s a perfect name.” The two roses spoke.

[leviackermannsupremacy]

gone.

- 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

��𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒! - 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐝, 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐲. 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭.

𝐀/𝐍 - 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭!

𝐌𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥, 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭

𝐌𝐦𝐦, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭

Levi Ackerman has always loved and lost. No matter how his deepest desire is to keep those he treasures the most alive, his sacrifice never seems to work when it came to those he devoted his heart. He lost many people throughout his life: a mother, his friends, his cadets and now his lover.

Captain L/N was a ray of sunshine in the cruel world Levi was forced to live in. She was the most stunning thing he could ever call his, and he loved her beyond words could even explain. She made him believe gods had walked on the Earth, in the very ground she stepped in, as her aura was something only a godly, out of this world creature could ever possess. He was hers and she was his, and that’s all Levi Ackerman could ever ask.

Y/N was someone too good to grace this damned place. Too pure, too honest and too kind. She was one to sacrifice her life for someone else to live even longer than her kind soul should’ve had. And it pained Levi to know she went down with kindness in heart. If only she would’ve been a little selfish, a little bit less pure-hearted, then Levi could still hold her in his empty arms. She was taken away from him, as if the angels wanted her back. As if his saving miracle wasn’t supposed to last. As if she was meant to make him happy for the remaining years that he had.

But Y/N lasted less time than her beautiful soul should had.

It had been 2 years and 3 months since Captain L/N left Levi’s warmth. Since she was taken by that awful being that Levi shred to pieces after the catastrophe was caused. And Levi still wakes up thinking that all of that was an awful, terrible dream. That he gets to wake up to see his beautiful girlfriend sleeping right next to him. That he gets to hug her and kiss her, that he can let her know how much she means to him and how he would destroy this very Earth to protect her from anything.

But Levi Ackerman failed. He failed to protect Y/N.

He was unable to keep his promise and he damns himself for failing her. He knows he shouldn’t had failed her, and he constantly blames himself for being such a failure. He thinks he should be the one gone. Not Y/N. Never his dear Y/N.

But then he thinks that if he left, then Y/N would’ve been left in pain and in sorrow; and he would never want his significant other to feel such a burning agony, that it felt as if your chest was aching with an eternal fire. He only wanted happiness for the two of them, for her, as he knows the hells that she had endured and survived. He knows that it traumatized her even in her very last day. So all he wanted was happiness, she deserved happiness.

And he wonders whether she is happy now. If she can still feel what he feels so deeply for her. All that love that he has for her in his heart. How he wishes every single day for her to come back, to able to see her smile and cherish her warmth.

All Levi thinks is about her. About how much he loves her and how he would give the world to bring her back. About the future they could’ve had, the house they would’ve made, the children they would’ve protected and how they would’ve grown old and wrinkly but with the same passion for each other like the very first time. However, all of that, his favorite wish, was taken from him. So now, all he can do is hope that she can hear his thoughts, as dumb as it may sound; and that she still loves him with the same strength that he loves her back.

-

Levi woke up with dry tears staining his salty cheeks. His breathing was labored and an aching pressure felt strong in his burning chest. His eyes were a bloodshot red, still wet with tears that threatened to fall from the misery he found himself in.

He had that awful nightmare again. The one were you where gone.

So he turned to look beside him, once again thinking it was all an awful dream inside his head, and that he would turn and see his beautiful girlfriend sleeping soundly right next to him. But the place next to him was empty, cold and untouched, a pillow claiming the space where Y/N L/N’s warm figure should’ve been in. The knot in his throat tighten with even more strength and the tears that once threatened to leave, cascaded down his face.

"So it wasn't a dream...Y/N...."

That name that now was so distant yet still held that familiarity and love that Levi once would say daily, with a hint of annoyance in his tone, was painful for Levi to say. Or to even listen too. Because that name belonged to someone he loved with all his fiery heart. He rubbed his face and brushed a hand through his ever-growing locks, in an attempt to calm his fast-beating heart. However, the action only brought him pain as it reminded him how Y/N would run her soft, calloused hands through his tangled locks and brush his hair till his breathing turned soft and gentle.

While it brought him pain, it also brought him a little bit of happiness, as Levi remembered her angelic voice and laughter that would erupt from her lips as she would torture him to let her brush his hair and tie it to a little ponytail as much as his hair would allow. Although he still wasn’t fully accustomed to such level of affection, he would let his walls down for his significant other. He would allow Y/N to do whatever she wanted, as the action brought her happiness, and to him too.

The happy memory pained Levi’s heart, so much that soft sobs left his mouth as tears continued to cascade down.

"Why are you crying, Levi?" A sweet, feminine voice asked. "You know that I don't like it when you cry, love."

Levi’s head looked up so fast, it almost gave him severe whiplash. But it didn’t matter at the time, since right in front of him, sitting in their bed, was Y/N. His dear, beloved Y/N. Her figure was blurry, a small ring of light surrounding her figure, but she was there and pretty visible to him. She was wearing a long, white gown and her silky hair was down, while her stunning E/C eyes stared right at his grey ones full with concern and loving.

"Please stop crying, love." She said, as her hands went to the side of his face and held it with such a warmth and gentleness that it threatened to break Levi’s heart. It had been such a long time since Levi felt her warmth, so, so long that the touch almost felt foreign to him. He couldn’t believe this was happening, it almost felt like another dream to him.

But it was real. So Levi gently put his hands on top of hers, as if scared of damaging her in any sort of way, and softly succumbed into her touch. He closed his eyes and a small smile decorated his lips as he enjoyed his lovers touch.

"Are you really here, Y/N?"

A small giggle reached his ears and then, “Of course I am here, silly. I’m always with you, Levi.”

The words only further made his heart flutter with love, but he knew the cruel reality of the moment happening right now. It wasn’t the first time she visited him ever since that fateful day, but it’s been a long time since she came that he almost forgot the price they paid.

"But you are gonna leave soon, aren't you?" Levi opens his eyes to observe his lover and sees a small frown in her beautiful face,"Let’s not talk about that right now, okay? Let us enjoy this moment, please?”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He said, “Come here.” He opened his arms wide and let Y/N climb over to him and held her head against his chest and she laid down deep in his embrace. He knew she could hear and feel his fast-beating heart, but he was so happy that he couldn’t give a damn. “I have missed you so much, Levi.” She whispered, “You have no idea how badly I have wanted to see you.” “I have missed you too, brat.” Y/N giggled at the nickname Levi was so fond of saying. She smiled widely and buried her face even more into his chest. “So tell me, what have you done while I’ve been gone. Have the cadets given you a hard time?”

“Eren is a pain in the ass like always, no surprise there. But he has been behaving more like a decent human being as of lately.” “That’s good. I’m glad he is doing good. I also miss him and his temper.” “I would be more than happy to be away from that damned brat and his temper.” Y/N only laughed and kept on listening to Levi and his stories about the cadets. She had no idea how much joy Levi was feeling in his dull heart. How much happiness her visit had brought him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He still loved her with all his heart and all he wished was that this night wouldn’t end any time soon. But before his thoughts turned sour, he showered his lovers head with kisses and continued filling her in about the cadets and all the shit he’s done.

-

The couple spent the rest of their time together cuddling, talking and even joking about certain things they both remembered. They were spending such a splendid time that they both forgot their time together was limited.

Y/N, noticing their time together was coming to an end as she felt her connection to the world slowly fade, sighed and sat down in the bed. She turned to look at her lover, and with heartbreak in her chest, she said, “Levi, I am so sorry to break this to you, but it’s time for me to leave.”

The Captain, too happy to have his girlfriend back, was taken aback with her statement as it completely left his mind that this was only meant to last a few couple of hours. And all that joy and eternal happiness he felt minutes ago was replaced with the constant aching that lingered in his chest.

"You don't have to leave, you can stay."

"I wish I could, Levi.” Y/N said with a sad smile, “But if that was reality, I would have stayed long ago. Ever since my first visit."

The Captain sighed and all he did was bring his lover to an embrace and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He smelled her scent, trying to not forget her sweet, soothing smell. He almost forgot it before, since it had been a long time since he saw her face and the scent of her in her clothes was becoming weaker as he slept with some of her shirts next to him due to the calmness they brought him.

As Levi pulled back from his lover, he saw her figure slowly start fading away. All he did, as he knew time was coming to an end, was stare at her beautiful face to capture all her stunning features, even the most tinniest of them. He wouldn’t forget her face, he’d be damned if he did.

“I love you, Levi Ackerman. Please remember that.”

All Levi did was continue to stare at her since, if he opened his mouth, all that would leave were the violent sobs that wanted to leave his breaking vessel. He tried to grab his girlfriends hand, but as her body was fading now at an alarmingly fast pace, it went right through her.

Noticing this, she offered him one last smile and said, “Levi, please take care of yourself and remember that I will always love you.”

Levi closed his eyes to try to hide the pain in his eyes and took one long breath to try to control his burning chest. He was losing his composure and he didn’t want the last thing that Y/N saw was his saddened tears. Once he felt composed enough, after several long breaths, he opened his mouth and said, “I love you too, Y/N.”

But when he opened his eyes, his lover was long gone from his reach and the sight left his heart aching into pieces. The composure he so desperately tried to uphold shattered as he processed the situation.

And Captain Levi Ackerman started to cry.

[hardman5509]

A Gift For Keine

@touhousecretsanta

Howdy there @kikuhan I’m your Touhou Secret Santa, and I got a story for ‘ya! This one goes around your request in a roundabout fashion, but I figured something different would be more interesting.

I don’t know much about PC-98 characters (outside of the obvious ones), so I stuck with the ones I knew about. Hope you enjoy it!

Living out in the middle out of nowhere did have a massive downside to that. Mokou didn't have money. She generally lived off things that she could find lying around...or stealing. She had a habit of stealing a whole lot, even more as of late due to the growing number of powerful individuals coming to Gensokyo. It seems like there's someone new coming in every other day.

Back on topic, Mokou didn't have any money of her own. And she wanted to get something for...that holiday...that green-haired girl that lived at that mountain shrine raved all about at this time of year. Christmas, right? It's weird, but people were getting into it. Even more with the humans. They loved it! They would gather around in the middle of the village, surrounding a large tree, and decorate it. They would also go out and give each other gifts...

And that's the part that has Mokou worried. No money, no gift. And she really wanted to pay Keine back.

It was Keine that introduced her to the holiday in the first place after all. Keine spent most of her time working with the humans, and while she did initially criticize the event, she did end up accepting it. Mokou had noticed it, along with Keine's own problems. Keine had been greatly affected by all of the new people that made Gensokyo their home, as that meant she would have to work longer and harder to protect the Humans. Whenever she came by to visit, Keine just seemed to be out of energy, always tense, and more ready to snap.

“Sorry.” Keine would then apologize. “It's just...”

Mokou knew that Keine really needed a break. And that would be impossible, Keine didn't really trust anyone that's not human. Mokou...technically still counts as one, but Keine just refused to allow her to take over. So getting her to take a break isn't going to be what Mokou is going to get her, she's going to get her a gift that would help Keine relax!

And in fact, that weirdo shopkeeper is selling something from the other world that might help with that. It's a machine that massages your feet; that sounded perfect for someone like Keine. Mokou puffed out her chest as she started to look around for somewhere she could get some money, and fast. The Human Village is out of the question however, she didn't want to tip Keine off to her plans. Shrine-duty isn't going to pay her anything, let alone if she decides to go and work with Reimu.

...so that left...

“Huh.” Eirin mused out as she looked over the annoyed-looking Mokou. “I guess I could pay you for help, but I'm more concerned that you will just start a fight with the princess...”

“I don't care about the princess, I just need the money.” Mokou interrupted. Eirin responded by tossing a pill that was nearby at Mokou's head. Mokou just let the tiny thing bounce off her forehead. “I need the money for a Christmas gift.”

“Really?” Eirin tilted her head. “Just a Christmas gift? Wouldn't you like to have money all the time? I mean, I could use some real help around here, and if you had more money, you could leave the forest behind...”

“Just a Christmas gift.”

“Okay.” Eirin grunted. “I guess if you just want some spending money, I can hire you on as a janitor.”

“Done, deal, where's the mop, I'll go ahead and clean up.” Mokou breathed out as she jumped up to her feet.

“I don't need anything cleaned right now.” Eirin followed suit. “When I ask for you...“

“Break-time? Break-time.” Mokou spoke out and pulled out one of the few things she has left, a pack of cigarettes. A commodity of the other world, and yet damn expensive here in Gensokyo. She's lucky to get even one packet like this and she had to trade some herbs she found in her part of her woods to get them...

And Eirin snatched them and then promptly tossed them into the trash bin. “You're working in a medical facility, smoking is only allowed outside.” Eirin told. Mokou almost felt tempted to go ahead and just leave...but it's either this or working at a shrine. And yet, the endless and repitive nature of shrine work would probably allow her to take a drag every now and then...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mokou had another surprise awaiting her when she went outside. Marisa! Mokou's entire body started to tense up upon seeing that walking bundle of chaos. Marisa waved. “Yo, firebug!”

“Hey.” Mokou replied as she looked away. “What brings you around these parts?”

“I should be the one asking you that.” Marisa wagged a finger at Mokou. “Isn't this the place you regularly trash in your eternal revenge against Princess Lazyass?”

Mokout did have to stifle a little laugh. That does accurately portray Kaguya. “Got a job here, janitorial. Need money, end of story.”

“Oh, really?” Marisa raised a eyebrow at that. “Same actually! I need some mad money for a little project coming up, and Eirin is hiring all sorts of people right now.” Marisa put her hands behind her back, starting to rock and back forth on her feet. “So, what did you have to bribe her with in order to get a job? I had to give away some of my best mushrooms.”

“I went in and asked.”

“Really?” Marisa groaned. “Just like that? I think I have just been bamboozled...” She paused for a second, before looking around the area that Eientei is situated in. The Bamboo Forest. Marisa pointed at a wall of bamboo and laughed, in the same manner as a little girl would have. Mokou pursed her lips and sat down on the steps. “C'mon, you have to admit that was kinda funny...”

“Sure, real riot.” Mokou sighed. “Look, I just want money for a Christmas gift. I don't want any trouble or shenanigans...”

“Doubtful you're going to be avoiding those, the latter sort.” Marisa pointed out. “Tewi has set traps everywhere. She might be setting them up right now as we speak. Probably putting around our main areas of work. We could be taking out the trash, and boom!” She made her hands flutter around. “Down we go into a traphole!”

“Pfft.” Mokou blew out. “I'm used to that little idiot's traps. If we just fly around, we can avoid her pitfalls.” Mokou did a little demonstration as she started to float up. “See? This will be easy...”

“Alright, we can totally do that.” Marisa nodded, pulling her broom out of nowhere. “Of course, with my broom, I can carry more than you can.” She tapped on the broom. “So, you feel like a little competition? I don't think that Eirin can pay us equally, so she's going to shell out the big bucks to the best worker...”

“I just need the money.” Mokou told, swiping her hands around in the air. “Even if you are paid twice of what I make, I don't care. Once I get enough to afford the item, I'm leaving.”

“C'mon...” Marisa cooed as she got right up next to Mokou. Mokou groaned and flinched at being so close towards Marisa. “Surely you got the spirit of competition about you. You are plenty fiery after all...” She bumped an elbow into Mokou's shoulder. Mokou let out a small snarl. “Don't you want to earn so much money at once that you can quit early?”

“Leave me be.” Mokou told as she gently pushed Marisa off to the side. Marisa took it well and giggled like the little imp she is. Mokou decided to take her break elsewhere, you know, anywhere that's not here. Mokou figured the best place to be would to be behind the big barn like building. Possibly the place that Eirin keeps all of her victims, the results of her experiments...or both!

Still, possibly a good and shady spot. Mokou walked on over to the barn and then down into a large pit. The mocking laughter of a little rabbit girl following soon after. Mokou just took a deep breath and focused on staying calm. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At least she got to work on the inside after that. Sweeping around, cleaning dishes, and properly cleaning up lab equipment is all boring work. But it keeps her away from Marisa, Kaguya isn't bugging her as she's sleeping off an all-nighter of games,  and possibly from Tewi. No telling if Tewi has somehow managed to booby-trap the inside of Eientei, and the other people living here had jut gotten used to it and knew where the traps were.

Except Reisen. She never learned.

Mokou walked over the fallen Reisen and back into the main lab. “Swept all the dust away.” She told onto Eirin.

“Good, good.” Eirin sighed as she scrawled out a quick note. “Now, I got a important task for you.” She pulled out a wrapped package. “This is a easy one. I need you to deliver this to the Hakurei shrine. You should know where that is, right?” Mokou nodded. She had been there a few times before, and it's not like a hard place to find. It's just that nobody in the right mind would go and visit it without a decent reason to do so.

“So Reimu afforded something?” Mokou asked as she took the package in hand. She knew better to try and shake it.

“Oh no.” Eirin shook her head. “It's for Suika. She can actually afford me.”

“How?”

“I don't ask questions, and I accept payment first.” Eirin held up a finger. “Now, get going. I might not have a time limit on deliveries, but I am considering it in the future. So uphold my future reputation.”

Mokou sniffed as she exited out of the room with the package in hand. This should be easy. Just fly on out to the Hakurei Shrine, slap the package into Suika's face and get back to Eientei in time for payday. Hopefully payday and not more work. Mokou would like to get paid and leave. Still, this chore has to be more interesting and less annoying than menial labor, right?

“Hey, whatcha got there?”

Mokou groaned as she stepped away from a curious-looking Marisa. “Package. Special delivery. Need to get going.” She explained.

“What's inside, and who's it for?” Marisa questioned as she peered all around the package, somehow managing to keep up with Mokou moving it. “Hold on, I think I see a name...the shrine, huh?” Marisa's expression changed upon seeing the name of the location; going from curiosity to something like a blank stare. “What did Reimu order?”

“None of your business, got to go!” Mokou growled as she spun around, tucking the package underneath her armpit and scurrying on outside.

“Wait up!” Marisa called out, summoning her broom out of nowhere and starting to chase after Mokou. “If it's going to the shrine, you should let me do it! I know the people there a lot better than you! And I'm faster than you too...”

“Don't you got something else going on?” Mokou shouted back as she hopped off the stairs and took flight. “Like sweeping or something?”

“Oh, it's nothing! It can wait!” Marisa shouted back as she continued to give chase. She sounded actually concerned. That's a oddity to hear coming from Marisa. What about this package is so bloody important to her? Mokou would...not care to ask, nor really care about Marisa in the first place. Besides, if Marisa is so insistent on following her around, than that means she would most likely lose her job for abandoning her post...

...which will mean that Mokou will have more work to do. Oh dear.

“Hey Marisa!” Mokou called back, almost letting a little bit of panic enter into her voice. “If you get fired for following me around, than that means I will get the higher pay!”

“It's okay, it's okay!” Marisa called back. “I just think it's more important that I deliver this package, and hey, there's got to be more jobs for me out there! Really, just let me deliver the package to Reimu!” Marisa started to pick up speed, zooming dangerously close to Mokou's side. Mokou let out a sharp yelp as she quickly darted off to the side, heading back into the woods.

“All this over a package?” Mokou called out as she dipped around the various trees. “C'mon...”

Her little speech about why Marisa is throwing away her job was crudely interrupted by a even cruder trap. A log about the same size of Mokou came crashing right into her face. Mokou groaned as she fell down onto the floor of the forest into a crumpled mess, for all of a second right before she fell through the floor and into one of Tewi's pitfalls.

“Ohmygosh!” Marisa spat out as she safely landed next to the pitfall. “Is the package okay?” Mokou groaned and feebly held up the package, somehow remaining intact despite having been through three impacts. “Thank goodness!” Marisa chuckled as she took the package and soared up into the sky.

...oh right. Tewi. Everyone in Gensokyo can fly. Of course the trap-loving smart-ass would build trap in accordance with that specific trait. Why did Mokou assume that going through Tewi's stomping grounds would work out in her favor? She crawled out of the pit as fast as she could and started to go after Marisa. No doubt that Marisa would head in the direction of the shrine!

And this time she's going to avoid the forest entirely by flying over it.

“Shrine dead-ahead!” Marisa called out as she noticed the big and obvious shrine dead-ahead of her. “Alright shrine maiden, get ready to meet the sexiest, most brilliant, delivery-girl in all of Gensokyo!”

“Dead is correct!” Mokou snarled as she reached on out and grabbed Marisa by the shoulder, managing to toss the witch off her broom. “I'm not going to let you to get away with leaving me behind!”

“Woah!” Marisa shouted out as she did a barrel-roll around in the air, managing to readjust herself in the air. “Watch the package, watch the package!” Marisa shuddered as she clutched the package close to her chest as she rolled around in the air, hoping to somehow avoid Mokou coming after her. At least Mokou cannot bring out spellcards or her famous kicks without endangering the package.

“Just hand the package back to me!” Mokou shouted as she grabbed Marisa by the shoulders, intending to give Marisa a little demonstration of what falling to Earth feels like. Marisa screamed as the big green earth beneath her started to get bigger right before she impacted through the ground, leaving a Marisa-shaped crater in their wake.

“Mine, mine!” Mokou screamed as she wrestled the package out of Marisa's hands. “Now to complete the delivery...”

“Ahem.”

Mokou pulled herself out of the ground and found herself looking at the shoes of someone stomping said shoes against the ground. “I believe you just marred my grounds...” The person spoke, while rapping a certain wooden stick against the palm of their open hand.

“Ah.” Was the last thing that Mokou got to say before she canned in the head by a big orb with the Yin-Yang symbol on it.

“Oh, Reimu!” Marisa waved out of the hole as Reimu dragged the now unconscious Mokou out of the Marisa hole, allowing Marisa to drag herself out of it. “I got a package here for you...”

“Didn't order anything.” Reimu told as she let Mokou flop on down to more solid ground. “You sure you were supposed to deliver to me?” Marisa pointed to the package, still wrapped up in Mokou's hands. Reimu went on over and gently tugged it out of Mokou's clutches. “Huh, it is for the shrine...”

“Hey, my thingie arrived!” Suika cheered out as she came out of nowhere and took the package. “About time too...” She looked around, noticing both Reimu and Marisa. “Hey, now, this is a surprise...” She giggled out as clutched the package close to her chest. “You gots to wait for it, Rei...”

“What is she on about?” Reimu questioned.

“Wish I knew.” Marisa shrugged. “Hey, Reimu...” Marisa put her hands behind her back and stood right besides Reimu. “You got a nice...haircut? Right?”

“Marisa.” Reimu firmly stated.

“Hey, just making small talk.” Marisa held up her hands. “I best return to my work, along with my...” She strolled on over to the still unconscious Mokou and managed to hoist her on up onto he shoulder. “Co-worker here...”

“I hope you two are willing to come on back here and fix the damage...”

“Her, not so much. Me?” Marisa put her fee hand onto her chest. “Absolutely! Later Reimu!” Marisa whistled, and her broom suddenly zoomed on over to her, where she threw Mokou onto the broom and then she flew off. Reimu shook her head as she watched Marisa fly off. Besides the obvious wishes of Marisa not stealing stuff and her not destroying property, Reimu just wished that Marisa would just go ahead and confess her love.

When even Cirno can recognize it, you know you got some serious issues. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Package delivered madam!” Marisa saluted, with the still dazed Mokou doing the same.

“I recall only sending one of you to go and deliver it...” Eirin commented on. “But as long as you did your chores on the outside, I don't mind if you go together...”

“Oh those.” Marisa shrugged. “They could wait...”

“Marisa.” Eirin firmly interrupted, her eyes going a bit wide. “I asked you to go and dispose of some chemical waste...you did go and did that, right...?”

“MISS, THERE'S A GIANT SLIME MONSTER OUTSIDE AND IT WANTS TO EAT ME!”

“Marisa, you're fired.” Eirin pointed towards Marisa. “Help me kill the slime monster and I'll at least pay you. Mokou, help me kill it and you can keep your job.”

“Guess I don't have much of a choice here.” Marisa shrugged. She pulled out of her Mini-Hakkero, giggled exactly like the mad woman she is, and ran outside, accidentally smacking Mokou in the face. This at least got Mokou to return to being mostly 'sane'. Eirin clapped her hands, and that got Mokou to scramble on outside.

As the three got outside, they found Reisen being pummeled around by a giant slime monster. It had wrapped a tentacle around Reisen's waist and is now treating her like a hammer and there's nails everywhere that needed to punched in. Reisen's usual sort of moans and groans echoed throughout the area.

“We need to stop the creature before it escapes out of the forest.” Eirin told as she notched an arrow into her bow. “Lethal measures permitted, just try to avoid damaging Eientei.”

“MISS!” Reisen cried out as she got, rather luckily, tossed aside by the creature. Extra lucky that she got sent through the roof of Eientei, and not into the bamboo forest where she could have been impaled by the bamboo or land into a nest of some nasty creature that would have stung her a million times. Kaguya, on the other hand, will just pelt her with a newspaper a dozen times.

“I'll give it a nice bath, with my magic! Master Spark!” She fired off her trademark (stolen) attack right at the center of the mass, causing the slime to bubble and boil, but remain still. “Hey, now it smells awful!” Marisa groaned as she had to stop attacking to press on her nose.

“It's made out of various amounts of chemical waste that came from my results in my lab experiments.” Eirin groaned as she fired off an arrow, aiming at where she noticed the biggest globs of concentration within the slime, assuming it to be the nucleus of the being. The arrow didn't even make it halfway through it before the slime dissolved it. “So don't burn it! The fumes coming off it would be toxic to even youkai!”

Mokou looked down to see her hands a-flamed. “Welp, might as well take a break then...” She sighed before Eirin put a firm hand on her shoulder to keep her from going anywhere. “What, you want me to kick it?”

“Better than nothing!” Eirin motioned her head on over to the slime, with Marisa flying around it and hitting it with non-hot lasers. She didn't look to be having much fun. “If you and Marisa can punch a hole into it, leading to that big discolored blob in the middle, I can hit it with an arrow and kill it!”

“Oh, eew...” Mokou sighed. “Fine. But I am getting paid for this right?”

“Well, this is part of your job, cleaning up messes, ain't it?” Eirin chuckled as she notched another arrow. “Just get me to the core!” Mokou nodded as she ran forward to the really foul looking monster. She figured a little fire wouldn't hurt anything, just as long as she keeps it concentrated into a single kick. Just enough to give the kick a little more kick...

Great, now she sounds like Marisa.

Spinning around, and with fire surrounding her right leg, Mokou kicked through the slime. “That's it!” Eirin told. “Almost there...”

“Let me finish this in style!” Marisa called out as she zipped on down to Mokou's level and unleashed another powerful beam, aiming where Mokou had kicked in before. It did punch through a little bit more, but then Mokou and Eirin noticed the smoke coming from the gap...

“Marisa?” Eirin coughed out. “Did I tell you to not use fire?”

“I thought it would be...” Marisa coughed in return. “...fine, now...”

“How...” Mokou hacked out. “...did you get to live this long?”

“Well...” Marisa giggled, throwing in a small cough. “Good luck, good friends and good looks mostly...”

“Ugh!” Eirin grunted as she pulled a gas mask out of her pouch and slapped it onto her face. “I should just bought the mushroom off you!”

“Wait, what?” Marisa asked, her voice now clear of any congestion. “I could have gotten more?”

“I only agreed to let you have the job as it would be easier to keep you around than have you run around as free as you want!” Eirin told as she grabbed a second mask and slapped it onto the reeling Mokou. “Plus it would cost me less to pay you a minimum wage than to pay out for that rare mushroom!”

“Well, I don't feel like helping you out anymore.” Marisa crossed her arms. “Seeing how now you owe me a greater deal of mon...”

The slime monster decided to go for the easier target of the standing witch and continue its favorite game of 'hammer girl'. Bad sexual innuendo aside, Marisa got the usual Reisen treatment and got pummeled around for a bit before being sent flying off. Unlike Reisen however, Marisa actually remembered she could fly and managed to tuck herself into recovering in the air.

“Hey, I ain't no comic relief character!” Marisa groaned. “That's it, you want some real power?” She pulled out her Mini-Hakkero and aimed it down towards the slimeball. “How about a real big Master Spark?” Energy started to gather around into the mini-generator, making the air buzz with heat “I'll eradicate you with one good shot, 'ze jerk!”

“We should run.” Mokou thumbed behind her.

“I don't think that's going to help much...” Eirin sighed.

“LOVE SIGN: MASTER SPARK!” Marisa shouted, unleashing a full strength blast of rainbow energy out of her hands, with the creature caught right in the middle of the explosion. Good news? The beam nor the shockwave of it ended up damaging Eientei, and hey, it destroyed the slime creature. Bad news is that instead of disintegrating the creature, it splattered gloriously and gore-ly all over Eientei.

“On second thought, you were right.” Eirin remarked as took off her gas-mask. At least that prevented her from getting gunk in her mouth.  “Where's Marisa now?”

“Running off.” Mokou told as she looked up, seeing Marisa quickly darting away.

“Oh well, don't have to pay her then.” Eirin shrugged. “Tell you what.” She pointed on over to Mokou. “Clean this up and I'll double...”

“Triple.”

“Triple your payment.” Eirin sniffed as she swiped her hands of the goo, sending it flying on over to Mokou's face. “See you in about three hours.” Eirin groaned as she went back inside.

Mokou looked all over the area. The slime is covering everything. And she meant everything. The trees, the bamboo, the roof, the side of the building, the floor, her and the returning Reisen. She just groaned and went back inside. Mokou wondered if she could possibly burn the slime away, but being someone with a brain, she remembered that the slime would produce some toxic fumes if she tried to burn it.

She located the mop and water bucket. It too was covered in slime.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took six hours, but Mokou had managed to clean up most of the slime. At least all of the stuff that's within general view. Surely the scant amounts of slime wouldn't turn into anything. They would just fade away at some point. Mokou got her tripled payment and got away from that crazy place. She didn't want to stick any longer than she had to. No telling what would happen next. There could be a explosion, someone from the moon...

She got the money, she got what she came for, time to get that gift (and some smokes now that she had some money to spend) and wait for Christmas day. This gave Mokou time to really calm down after all of that crazy nonsense that had gone down at Eientei. And then came...

Christmas time! Snow had started to fall, people were wearing all sorts of festive wear that made Mokou's eyes hurt a bit, and Keine could finally get a break from teaching/defending the humans to relax. The perfect time to present her gift! Mokou ran on over to Keine's house with the package in hand.

“Yo, Keine!” Greeted Mokou as she just invited herself in.

“I would appreciate if you would at least knock first.” Keine sighed as she put down her pen. “So, what's up?”

“I got a gift for you!” Mokou told as she held out her wrapped-up gift. “I worked hard for it.”

“Oh, Mokou...” Keine immediately relaxed and put a hand on her chest as she saw the crudely-wrapped up gift. “You really got this for me? That's so sweet, but you really didn't have to...”

“Nah I wanted to.” Mokou shook her head. “You work so hard for...peanuts? That's the word they use, right? What I mean you do a lot for little...”

“It's only right I chose this life.” Keine sighed as she stood up. “Because someone has to.”

“And because you don't trust anyone else to do it?”

“Look, I keep on seeing other powerful people squander what they have on such...ridiculous things.” Keine sniffed. “Reimu would rather sit around the shrine all day and invite in youkai than to tend the needs of humans. Marisa does her own thing all the time. And I do not dare to ask of the youkai or the other individuals affiliated with youkai...”

“Like Sakuya?”

“Her loyalty to her mistress means that she will prioritize gathering of blood over protection.” Keine scoffed. “There's just not so many people around that I can entrust the protection of humans over.”

“Then why not me?” Mokou asked holding the present close to her chest. “My immortality means I can keep it going for a long time...” She drew in a long breath as she ended up stumbling around with her words. “Well...” She breathed out. “You know. That thing.”

“It is something that I will not ask of you.” Keine shook her head. “Maybe once I do pass away, but while I live, it is my burden. Asking a friend, let alone you, is not something I can ask of you.”

“Let alone?”

“Oh, you know...” Keine chuckled as she looked away rather shyly. “Someone...like you. Someone to enjoy Christmas with.” She walked on over to a mini-icebox, opened it up, and pulled out a bottle of what looked to be a good vintage of sake. “So, how about it? You want to spend a night with me? Just you, me and this bottle of sake?”

“Yeah...yeah.” Mokou sighed. “That would be great. I got nothing else going on...”

Keine breathed out as she went on over to her couch, sake in hand. She sat down and patted the seat next to her. Mokou put a small smile as she sat on down right next to Keine. Mokou wasn't ready for the next bit of Keine resting her head onto her shoulder. Mokou's cheeks flared up and she felt the need to play with her collar. Room got a bit too hot for her liking.

“Oh yeah.” Mokou found a small way out of this. “Your gift. You wanna open it?”

“Might as well!” Keine giggled as she took the gift and tore through it.

“So you like it? It can massage you, so you can...”

“Eeerr, Mokou? This is a massager...”

“Something wrong? Not the right size for you?”

“No, you see...this is for adult use.”

“But you are an adult.”

“...private adult time.”

“Oh. Oh.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Merry Christmas Reimu!”

“I don't celebrate it.”

“I got you something for free, ze?”

“Ah. So you did.”

“Really awesome, isn't it?”

“I don't know, Suika got me the same thing as well.”

“Oh.”

“...look, if you want to bang, just ask nicely.”

“Ah.”

[theculturedmarxist]

The Fight for $15 movement started in 2012, when hundreds of fast-food employees went on strike in New York City for higher wages and a union. Since then, the movement has brought the concept of a $15 minimum wage firmly into the mainstream and won (eventual) hikes to $15 per hour—less than a true living wage in most places, yet double the federal minimum wage of $7.25—in cities, counties, blue states, and red states alike.

But fast-food workers all over the country are still working under dire circumstances, with the COVID-19 pandemic surfacing long-festering problems about wages and safety. And so the workers are still rising up. Today, McDonald’s workers in 15 cities across the country are striking. The actions are timed to the company’s annual shareholder meeting on Thursday and come hot off the heels of McDonald’s attempting to fix a “labor shortage” by offering workers at company-owned stores an entry-level wage of between $11 and $17 over the next several months.  

Precious Cole is one of those striking workers. Cole has been working in fast-food joints since she was 15 years old; she’s now 34. During the pandemic, she has worked at three different restaurants in Durham, North Carolina: Freddy’s Frozen Custard and Steakburgers, Wendy’s, and since last month, a McDonald’s franchise, after she got recruited out of the Wendy’s drive-thru window.

McDonald’s announced they’re raising the average pay in their corporate-owned stores to $15 by 2024, but that’s only 5% of US locations. Workers are striking May 19 because we know that @McDonalds can and should pay $15 to every worker NOW!https://t.co/MpOFIRso97 #FightFor15 pic.twitter.com/igIjZCK2w7

Cole has been involved in various labor actions at her workplaces over the course of the pandemic, mostly over safety protocols, and on Wednesday she’s going back out on strike for a $15 minimum wage and a union. Cole talked to Discourse Blog earlier this week about the strike, her experience working through the pandemic, what she believes are the real reason behind the labor shortage.

This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

Discourse Blog: How long have you been working at McDonald’s?  

Precious Cole: Honestly, only a month. I got recruited out of the Wendy’s drive-thru to work at McDonald’s.

Discourse Blog: How long have you been working at fast food restaurants including Wendy’s and McDonald’s?

Precious Cole: Since I was 15 years old. My first job was Burger King…I just turned 34 at the beginning of this month.

Discourse Blog: There’s a lot of talk about a labor shortage right now, and McDonald’s put out that statement saying they were going to raise their minimum wage to $11 per hour. Is your store having trouble finding people?

Precious Cole: From my experience, yes. Since I’ve been working, I’ve literally been working 12-hour shifts, because people don’t want to come to work and we don’t have enough people. We even did a hiring event last Thursday, I believe.

I just believe it’s these companies not paying enough, paying poverty wages, and people are just sick and tired of getting paid so little. Especially with the cost of living going up, with this coronavirus that’s going on, people lost their jobs. And it’s crazy that they lost these jobs and they don’t want to even try to get another job because these companies don’t care about their workers.

Discourse Blog: What’s your experience been like at work with health and safety? Have your workplaces been following regulations and everything?

Precious Cole: I had two jobs at once at one point. And one job followed regulations, the other job was very iffy on their regulations. And that led to a movement and us making sure that everybody in that company is safe now.

The [iffy] company was Freddy’s. One of our coworkers went to the hospital because she couldn’t taste her food…she came back to work the next day. And the day after, we got a call saying her hospital record came back and she has coronavirus, and you have to either take a two-week quarantine or go get the swab stuck up your nose. [Cole and her coworkers went on strike in September and then again in October; after the second, the owners of the Freddy’s franchise agreed to pay for COVID-19 testing as well as 10 days of paid sick leave for employees who test positive.)

Discourse Blog: What has dealing with customers been like during the pandemic?

Precious Cole: So in my experience, it has been a lot harder. Like I said, I’ve been in fast food half my life, so I’ve seen and dealt with everything imaginable. But now, you know, they just seem so angry. You get one or two that say, “Thank you for being here, for helping us out, for working during COVID.”  But then you have the other customers where—it’s store policy that you have to wear a mask. “Well, it’s my right not to wear a mask.” And I’m like, “I can’t serve you.” They get ignorant and rude and throw stuff on us.

It’s a whole lot worse now, because I believe people are angered. Half of these people don’t have jobs, or they do have jobs that are paying them little to nothing. People try to feed their families and have gas in their cars, they’re trying to make it to work. There are some people like me who haven’t even gotten stimulus money yet, still waiting on the government.

Discourse Blog: Oh, wow.

Precious Cole: I’m literally living paycheck to paycheck until the government decides, “Hey, let’s give Precious her money that she’s owed and deserves.” I just think they’re angry.

Discourse Blog: Are there any examples that stick out to you from the past year?

Precious Cole: When I was a manager at Wendy’s, I was doing my manager things, making sure my coworkers were OK. No offense, but I care more about my employees than I do the customers. Without the employees, there are no customers, there’s no store. So I have to keep my coworkers safe.

So one day, I come around the corner and I hear one of my coworkers arguing with the customer and I see a large drink in his hand, and I got the intuition. I said, “Oh God,” because it wasn’t the first time anything’s ever been thrown on me. And as I’m walking up to try to defuse the situation,  a whole large cup of lemonade comes through the window. They hit my coworker square in the face, broke her glasses. And in the after-effect of somebody chucking something, it hit three of us. We were dressed, from head to toe, in sticky lemonade. And we still had to work the rest of the night because it was no going home.

Everybody’s going through something. You don’t know what these people are going through and I understand that, but it’s like, you don’t have to throw stuff on us. People belittle us because we work in fast food, but it’s like, OK, you’re here. So if we weren’t here, you wouldn’t be here.

Discourse Blog: How many hours a week do you have to work to be able to pay your bills?

Precious Cole: I would have to say probably a little bit more than 40, maybe between 40 and 50. To pay rent, I have a car note, I’ve got to eat…I live with my elderly mother and that is a big concern for me. She’s vaccinated but about two weeks ago, she was in the hospital. And not trying to think morbidly, but my mom wants me to be OK when she’s gone, and as of right now I wouldn’t be OK. I wouldn’t be able to pay the rent, and the car note, and feed myself, and other necessities like gas in the car.

Discourse Blog: So how did you get involved in the Fight for $15 in the first place?

Precious Cole: The Freddy’s thing. One of my coworkers started talking about this movement she was in and I got interested, and then the coronavirus thing happened [at Freddy’s] and I shoved in full force.

Discourse Blog: What are you hoping to get out of the strike on Wednesday?

Precious Cole: Just that they finally listen to their workers. Not even just McDonald’s, workers all over the world, that we stand in solidarity with each other. We try to get this $15 minimum, and we know $15 is not a lot but I always say that it’s a start. Not the end, but it’s a start.

I just want to see people staying together and McDonald’s listening to their workers and not their shareholders. Something I always say is that I want to see the shareholders walk a day in our life. Pay them what they pay us and see if they can survive.

Discourse Blog: Have you seen more enthusiasm for this strike than other efforts?

Precious Cole: I honestly don’t know because the strike hasn’t happened yet. But I feel like for me, it’s gonna hold a lot of weight because I’m an actual McDonald’s worker. Before, I stood in solidarity with everybody, but now that I’m an actual McDonald’s fast food worker I can speak to some of the things that are going on. One of our Fight for $15 people told me he only makes $8 an hour and my whole mouth dropped. I was making $8 an hour at 18, 19 years old, but nowadays that’s a drop in the bucket.

Discourse Blog: Because of the pandemic and everything you told me, have you and your coworkers talked about eventually forming a union and what that might eventually look like?

Precious Cole: I started at Wendy’s trying to organize people because of what we’ve gone through over there. I tried to get them involved in Fight for 15, so some of them are still involved.

I know they have a lot to say because they say it to me when we’re at work. So I’m just like, hey, like, I have an outlet for you to express all of this stuff…I get that the majority of them are scared to lose their job and I’m trying to tell them, you’re not gonna lose a job because you’re protected; you have the right to organize. And then I’m also trying to tell them that if we form a union, you’ll definitely be protected.

[fullregalia]

quar on the floor.

I wrote this last year for my friend’s website--reposting here because I am so excited for season three. 

A few years ago, I was using someone else’s HBO password, streaming on borrowed time. I had exhausted my appetite for the platform’s comedic offerings of Veep, Curb, and Silicon Valley—stories of narcissists and egomaniacs in DC, LA, and SF—when I started to hear about a show called Succession. Created by Jesse Armstrong (a former writer in Veep creator Armando Iannucci’s room for The Thick of It), the show is ostensibly about the machinations of the Murdoch-inspired Roy family to retain their conglomerate’s dominance in media’s evolving landscape, and the infighting that arises from the children jockeying for patriarch Logan’s love, approval, and, most importantly, title. Think Arrested Development meets a Shakespearean tragedy. It is a story of narcissists and egomaniacs in NYC. The Roys and their courtiers are mean, extravagant, brash, and delusional—stereotypically obnoxious 0.01%-ers, that is—characters who do nothing to earn neither your affection nor trust, yet somehow that hasn’t stopped me from loving this show and the messy family at the center of it. 

Succession is a rich text. One could write numerous essays on what makes this show something to appreciate: its liberal use of “fuck off” while having practically zero on-screen sex, its clever signaling through nouveau riche clothing, its wry sendup of the Bancroft family (former family owners of the Wall Street Journal) as WASP-y hypocrites, its glee at lampooning the media industry, its theme song that is, canonically, the most important song of all time, its penchant for scenes at a formal dining table, its shrewd depiction of the ways capital exploits labor, its ability to make you fully dissociate when a grown man cringe raps about his dad.

Eventually, my erstwhile HBO password was changed, and finally I caved: I couldn’t live without on-demand access to this family’s particular brand of garbage-language trauma bonding. Revisiting it during quarantine became an escape and a balm. Look at these horrible people, gallivanting across the globe, carefree thanks to deep pockets and complete disregard for anyone but themselves! Am I talking about lockdown rule-breakers, our last administration, or the Roys? Who can tell! While our lives have become myopic in scope—a routine of bed, desk, kitchen, desk, bed for most—we can still live vicariously through this “viper’s nest” of a family that find themselves not only being out and about in the world, but also shaping it. A family whose primary concerns include fretting over cold butter at gala dinners (“The butter’s all fucked! You fuckwads, there’s dinner rolls out there ripping as we speak!”) and complaining about syphilitic rivals at thought leadership convenings (“You don’t hear much about syphilis these days… very much the MySpace of STDs”).

Instead of, I don’t know, traveling to see my family in England this past summer, I got to watch Roman and Shiv have an excruciating dinner of pigeon—watch out for the shot!—with their horrible mother in London. Instead of finding a new apartment after grad school, I moved back home, but I watched cousin Greg jump for joy in his new Soho loft, a gift from Kendall because “developers overestimated demand, so I bought all five units.” Instead of dinner parties with friends, I got to watch the world’s most sentient puffer vest Tom Wambsgans get humiliated by his wife and brother-in-law for wearing suits that make him “look like a divorce attorney from the Twin Cities,” a trait exacerbated by his “agricultural walk.”

In the second season the audience, ensconced in the warm embrace of Loro Piana knits and lulled by crass familial scheming, is reminded that cruelty has consequences. Logan’s paranoia leads to a humiliating round of “boar on the floor” during an executive retreat, and a plotline regarding a coverup of corporate malfeasance in the cruise division comes to a crescendo. (Cruises, the canary in the coal mine of this pandemic, seem to be good vehicles for Problematic Moments in general.) It is revealed that internally, Waystar Royco executives would refer to the victims of one executive’s lascivious (and, in fact, criminal) behavior as “NRPI”—no real person involved. Despite living in the rarified air where the hoi polloi are disposable, the rot is exposed. A piece of shit covered in cashmere is still essentially a piece of shit.

Season two ended four months before the pandemic began, and returning to it felt timely. Throughout this fuzzy, uncertain year, I’ve indulged in bad habits to numb existential dread: I can have two cookies for breakfast, as a treat. The Roys can have a little megayacht R&R, as a treat. To really grapple with the collateral damage of COVID and derelict leadership is devastating. Feeling powerless, locked down, and waiting for stimulus checks, one gets the revolutionary urge. In lieu of liberté and égalité, I eat cake and revel in the Roy’s twisted fraternité.

In those uncanny ways that life imitates art, I found myself working on contract for an international media conglomerate, one that is not unlike Waystar Royco, during the pandemic. There are indeed cheerful brand videos that tout inclusivity, boldly progressive values that encourage treating women as equals, and all-staff emails congratulating everybody on their hard work for “delivering highest quarterly EBITDA” and “record-breaking revenue year-over-year” (productivity in a pandemic, boy, I don’t know….). All these people, myself included, get paid ok-to-decent wages to put a human face on a corporation with the sole purpose of churning out content on market data and celebrity gossip. 99% of the company completely divorced from the handful of executives that get to make Important Decisions. Complicity creeps up on you that way, stuck on your couch finding yourself in a land where the border between disdain and aspiration is blurred. Not having an office to commute to or colleagues to complain with, I must be getting some sort of vicarious thrill from watching the Roy clan et. al. infight behind the glass walls of corner offices and bicker over the dull roar of a cocktail party. If this is the price of admission, maybe it’s fine I can’t afford it.

Perhaps that’s why I keep returning to this wretched family, enjoying its chaos and laughing at its bond so acerbic it can only charitably be called affection. Perhaps, in bingeing Succession intermittently, I am absolving myself of the frustration I feel for my inability to hold power to account, or my lack of tangible accomplishment. For what these sociopaths have in money and influence, they lack in emotional intelligence and a moral compass. After all, who really gets hurt when I delight in the tragedy and farce that is the Roy family’s saga? When it comes to the fate of the Waystar Royco empire, there are no real people involved.

[mjohnso]

Thank You For Your Feedback

AI-technology company Pulse9 knows that their new virtual girl group, Eternity, looks, as they put it, “unsettling.” They admitted as much in a March 29th response to a comment on the group’s debut music video, “I’m Real.” Like any new rookie group supplicating themselves before potential fans, their label assures, they will get better. Please keep watching and supporting them, look forward to their follow-up release, etc. etc. Don’t get it wrong though. Eternity may be packaged as idols but this does not mean Pulse9 has any interest in developing virtual replacements for idols. Indeed, on this point they are unequivocal, as evidenced by their oft repeated response to concerned comments: “We really want to point out our project is not intended to replace K-Pop idols and trainees.” Instead, their project has a larger goal, one that is beyond idols, even as it includes them. They “want to research and improve face-providing technology,” with the ultimate goal of utilizing the technology to assist society. Naturally, all of this raises a question, why an idol group? The short answer —it’s a savvy PR, one that allowed them to showcase their technology in a way that would catch attention, especially given the “moment” virtual idols are having.

There is more to that though that is worth digging into. Using an idol group not only caught people’s attention, but it got people talking about the project. At the time of writing, the YouTube comment section for "I'm Real" has over 6,700 comments, most of which are observations and feelings people have about the group. These, even at their most mean or negative, can be useful. Based on what people have said, they can gauge how successful their technology is at mimicking humans, as well as how people are responding to them. (spoiler: right now, the consensus among YouTube commenters is that the group is creepy) And given the nature of idols, as long as Eternity continually releases new content, worthy of note, as they improve their technology Pulse9 can expect a continuous stream of feedback on their changes to the technology.

In theory, Pulse9 could potentially use their YouTube comment section as an informal focus group, although with terms more favorable to them than actual focus group. That is whereas typical focus groups often compensate participants for their time and opinions, participants here are not paid. They are, after all, just "commenting," a fan activity not often framed as labor, even when fans are providing feedback agencies use to craft an idol’s image or career. Then it is an act of love, not work, a loophole that it would be easy for a company like Pulse9 with its lofty goal of helping society, to slip through. All they would have to do is elevate commenting into something more, not the mere act of a fan, but of a human being interested in helping society.

[positivlyfocused]

How I Easily Created An Awesome Job-Free Life

This is part three of a three part series on how I created a life where I no longer have to work a job. It began when my wife gave me an ultimatum. What came after that was a wonderful unfolding culminating in where I am today: no longer working a job, money coming in easily with little effort on my part and a life filled with joyful moments of clarity, peace, and joy.

In this post I’m going to describe what happened after starting work at the bridging job I created. I described how I created that job in part two.

A job let me live job-free

I went to work for this company. It was a wonderful time where I explored working for a very large successful Corporation again after working at Intel many years ago. This job was much more manual labor focused. I delivered packages around town in a truck.

I enjoyed this work. And I enjoyed working with people who typically take these kinds of jobs. I worked mostly in white-collar executive positions, wearing snazzy clothes in large offices. This opportunity opened my eyes to a different type of people. I had not had the opportunity to work alongside laborers, people who traded their labor for income. What I learned surprised me.

^^A picture of me at the wheel of my delivery vehicle while on my “bridging job.”

I wrote about many of these eye-opening experiences in this blog. Most fascinating is, when I look back on that job remembering how much fun I had, I also see how that job filled its purpose exactly as I designed it: as the bridging job that would take me from earning a living through a job, to having money flow easily into my life experience without working for it.

While working there, I changed old beliefs that had me tied to wanting jobs. Beliefs such as “a job says a lot about your self worth”, and, “working for a big company carries a lot of status”, and “making money says a lot about who you are”. Using the Positively Focused approach I soothed these old beliefs so the reality I wanted as my life became the life I have: one where none of these beliefs exist and I live job-free.

Happiness creates opportunity

So it was no surprise to me that shortly after the start of 2020, rumblings among the permanent staff indicated there might likely be layoffs coming. Our jobs were seasonal, but the permanent staff suggested here and there that our jobs might become permanent.

The rumors caused tremendous upset among my fellow drivers. For many, this job was all they had. Others hoped this delivery jobs were ground-floor opportunities to better, permanent jobs.

I was eager for whatever was going to happen. I knew what was going to happen would serve me best. I was not at the whim of this company: I was creating my reality. Not them.

So during my time delivering packages, I reveled in the experience. I immersed myself in the process. I figured out ways to improve and make more efficient the process. I gave that information to my manager who forwarded it to her manager. The management team was excited about what I had written. They gave me kudos for doing so.

I found myself really enjoying this work. I enjoyed the physicality of it. I enjoyed being out on my own. I enjoyed exploring parts of the city I hadn’t explored before. All in all, I enjoyed this job. I did not see it as a job, because it wasn’t a job for me. Instead it was a “bridging opportunity“ toward the reality I was creating.

Finally, just after the new year, rumors intensified that layoffs were coming. Instead of coming in the following week, I decided to take all the sick leave I accumulated. While on leave, I turned my attention toward my desires: to move through the rest of 2020 with money flowing into my life without me working a job.

The week I took off, the company terminated all seasonal driver positions. Everyone arrived at their shift and got their termination letter. My fellow drivers wrote me text messages upset about how they felt the company treated them.

They were really frustrated and annoyed and feeling disrespected that they showed up for work only to be dismissed.

Not me.

I was at home luxuriating in my bed, reveling in the future that was flowing into my life.

^^Me again in the delivery driver vehicle compound.

Then it happened

Several days later, I received a letter notifying me that I have been laid off. But that was no concern because I was enjoying my life.

That’s because, just before receiving the letter that I was laid off, A person who follows my passion project called Copiosis wrote me a message on WhatsApp. He said he wanted me to be able to put more time on that project, and was sending me cryptocurrency in an amount sufficient to pay for my living expenses for the rest of the year.

I was not expecting this specifically. The message floored me. I knew something like this would happen. I just didn’t know what the details of the happening would looked like.

You can imagine my delight upon receiving that message. But what really excited me was how much Bitcoin he gave me. True to this person’s word, the money in cryptocurrency he sent me paid my rent and living expenses for the rest of the year.

In other words, the universe coordinated the cooperative components – leaving my wife, creating a job, an apartment (which I may write about), and this easy transition to a jobless life – consistent with my desires: living without a job, and, having money come in without me having to do anything for it.

What’s interesting is, the same person gave me another cryptocurrency gift at the end of 2020. That particular gift came just as Bitcoin took off on a months-long rally. Every month thereafter, the rally increased the value of the amount he gave me by 1/3. That was enough to generate enough cash to last me throughout 2021.

Meanwhile, more Positively Focused clients came, eager to learn how to create their reality. Today my basic living expenses are covered by the cryptocurrency gift combined with the amount of money my clients gift me in return for the transformed lives they get.

Wait a minute…

You may ask: aren’t you working when you serve these clients or when you do things for Copiosis? My answer: not at all.

Because when I’m giving time to my clients, I’m Positively Focused. Being Positively Focused, especially being Positively Focused with another person, doesn’t feel at all like “working”. It’s play, it’s joyful and it’s fun.

It is filled with laughter, with epiphanies, insights and realizations, all of which lead to more and better, not only for my clients, but for me too.

Copiosis is a fun, joyful adventure. It’s not a job. I see it as a playground where I get to practice what I preach in Positively Focused.

So by serving my clients I am creating a more and better life for myself. That’s not working. That’s enjoying the reality I am creating, realities I am co-creating alongside my clients. Copiosis is like that too.

Today, as I sit in bed dictating this blog post, all my expenses, including enough for entertainment and pleasure expenses, are covered without me having to do anything that looks and feels like a “job”. I created exactly the reality that I had intended as I was leaving my wife.

I should add, that anyone can have this life. Anyone can create any reality they want. This is what I show my clients how to do. This is how life is meant to be.

We all came into the world not to mimic what other people are doing. We’re here to make real worlds of our own design matching our wildest desires.

Nothing else feels as satisfying as that. The more I live my life consistent with my wildest desires, the better I feel and the better life gets.

There’s more to come. And I’m eager for all of it.

[carelesstranslator]

Stray Devil Blues Pt 1 (A3! Act 9 Mixed Troupe Play)

Act 1

[A spotlight shines on Lucifer, standing alone on the stage]

Lucifer: The brilliance of that soul stretched across millenia, piercing through to the deepest depths of the earth. That hateful, accursed, blessed siren call.

[Scenery change: Town Square]

Jailor: Don’t come back again.

Mark: Thank you for your care.

Mark: ……hah.

Thug: Give me your money! Mark: — I don’t have any money. I just came out of jail.

Thug: Just pass your bag over! Mark: —ugh

Thug: Ha..ha…. it’s your own fault for being slow to give it to me! I didn’t do anything wrong! Mark: It can’t be…… will my life end just like this?

Lucifer: Do you resent your own destiny? Or do you hate the one who framed you?

Mark: Eh……?

Lucifer: I can give you power. The power to overturn destiny, a blade to deliver vengeance.

Mark: A devil……?

Lucifer: If you do nothing you will rot away here. Alone, unaccepted by anyone.

Mark: …… I refuse.

Lucifer: Then make a contract with me. With your soul as the price.

Mark: A contract……

Lucifer: The deadline for your soul to be paid is a month from now.

Mark: One month? I can’t live any longer than that?

Lucifer: No one can escape the contract.

Mark: No way! Then, there’s no point to it!

Lucifer: Although, there is but one way to free yourself from the contract.

Lucifer: Hunt the souls of people who have made contracts with other devils. If you do so, you can exchange their soul for your own, and be exempt from the conditions of the contract.

Mark: The souls of other contractors……

Lucifer: What will you do? Mark: ……I understand. I’ll forge the contract.

Lucifer: Then I promise you your life, and the success of your vengeance.

Mark: What I want is not revenge. I want to prove my innocence. That will be enough.

Lucifer: ……Very well. With this the contract is forged.

—

Mark: I can’t believe it, he was the culprit…… I thought we were friends.

Lucifer: Humans are weak creatures, vulnerable to corruption.

Mark: It’s even more convincing when a devil says that.

Lucifer: It makes things much easier for us.

Mark: Will you always stay here? Lucifer: So long as you do not tell me to return. High-ranking devils such as myself cannot remain in the human world without the will of our contractors.

Mark: Oh, so you’ll appear whenever I call for you. That’s convenient.

Lucifer: Do not speak of me as if I am some kind of tool. It’s unpleasant.

Mark: Sorry, sorry. Lucifer: Humph.

Employer: Hey, new hire! Move this baggage!

Mark: Yes! Mark: Hm… perchance, are high-ranking devils able to carry baggage like this?

Lucifer: Child’s play.

Mark: Perfect. You’re a great help!

—

(Scenery change: Inside the church)

Mark’s friend: I never meant to do it! But for some reason, at that time, I just felt irrationally angry at him……

Mark’s friend: I was possessed by evil!

Mark’s friend: I deeply regret framing my friend.

Walter: Repent and atone for your sins. If you do so, surely your soul will obtain salvation.

Mark’s friend: …… thank you very much, Father.

Walter: ……

Beezelbub: I can sense the presence of a devil.

Walter: He did not look like a contractor.

Beezelbub: It feels like someone disagreeable.

Walter: An acquaintance of yours?

Beezelbub: More importantly, I’m hungry. Today, I want to eat stew.

Walter: I’ve never heard of a devil eating stew before.

Beezelbub: With plenty of meat in it.

Walter: Got it, got it.

Walter: The presence of a devil, huh. Oh, God! Extend the hand of salvation to the lost children, and on the corrupt fallen, the hammer of condemnation!

—

(Scenery change: An alleyway)

Mark: It’s been a while, Cliff.

Cliff: Mark! When did you get out? Mark: A week ago. Thanks for helping out.

Cliff: I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do much. The situation really sucked.

Mark: The real culprit turned himself in recently.

Cliff: Is that so. If he was going to do that, he should have done it sooner. But in any case, it’s good that your innocence was proved.

Mark: ……yeah

Cliff: Have you decided on your next job?

Mark: Not yet. I’m doing day labor while looking for a long-term position.

Cliff: Why don’t you come and work for me? You would be welcome anytime.

Mark: Thanks for the offer, but the ‘work’ that you do is impossible for me.

Cliff: If it wasn’t for the ‘work’ that we do, many more children would be dead.

Mark: I know that. Even so, I can’t do it.

Cliff: If you change your mind, feel free to hit me up anytime.

Mark: Thanks, Cliff.

(Cliff exits the scene) Lucifer: Why didn’t you take up Cliff’s offer?

Mark: Cliff’s work involves intimidation and extortion. Most of his jobs are illegal.

Mark: Of course, I know that without this line of work, there are many who would be unable to feed themselves. Even so, I don’t want to do it.

Lucifer: If that’s the case then hurry up and find a proper and well-paying job. I don’t want to keep being summoned that that dirty old room.

Mark: Even though you’re a devil, you’re unexpectedly fastidious

Lucifer: Being a devil has nothing to do with it.

Mark: Sorry, sorry! Then help me with the cleaning. I probably won’t be able to move out anytime soon.

Lucifer: Why do I have to stoop to this kind of thing……

——

(Scenery shift: Town Square)

Mark: What’s that?

Lucifer: Demons. Though they aren’t very powerful, they tempt and distract humans into acts of evil.

Lucifer: In other words, they become ‘possessed by evil’.

Mark: Look out—!

Demons: Giiiii! Giiii!

Lucifer: Demons are ubiquitous, if you try to stop every single one there will be no end to it.

Mark: Even so, if you see that there is someone about to die in front of you, the normal thing to do is help them out.

Lucifer: How very kind of you.

Mark: You went along with it didn’t you? You too are —

Lucifer: What? Mark: Nothing.

——

Mark: ……for there to be demons around the church. It’s a strange connection.

Walter: Does something trouble you?

Mark: Ah, no——

Walter: Please enter. These doors are open to anyone.

Mark: ——

Walter: Would it be, that your trouble concerns devils? Mark: Eh? Walter: I’ve seen people who had the same expressions on their faces. I might be able to help.

Mark: Do you know something about devils?

Walter: Yes, well. People come to me for help with the exorcism of lower-ranking devils, and the contracts formed with devils.

Mark: The contracts formed with devils…

Walter: They grant wishes in exchange for the contractor’s soul. Would you like to know how one may free themselves from the contract? Mark: Is there such a method? Walter: The salvation of God is granted to anyone. I cannot say more than that our here, come within.

—

(Scenery shift to within the church)

Mark: ……

Mark: This is…?

Walter: A place where the power of devils cannot reach.

Mark: So, about the way to escape from the contract……

Walter: It is by bringing salvation to the corrupted soul! Mark: ——!?

(Beezelbub appears)

Beezelbub: There’s no mistake, Walter. This is a contractor. The one who holds his contract is ———

Mark: A devil!?

Walter: Are you surprised that a priest would work together with a devil? This is but a necessary evil.

Mark: Come, Lucifer! (Lucifer is summoned, but runs into a purple barrier)

Lucifer: How impertinent, to try to hold me with a barrier.

Beezelbub: As I thought, it was you, Lucifer. Then, this person is that ……?

Lucifer: If you know, then release me immediately.

Beezelbub: Unfortunately, it is not I who makes that decision. If I do not do my job, I will have to go without lunch.

Lucifer: To be baited by food…

Mark: You lied to me?

Walter: You wish to escape from that devil do you not? Then, there is only one way.

(sfx: blade being drawn)

Mark: ——gh

Walter: Haa! (sfx: blade slicing through air)

Mark: Ghh

Beezelbub: It’s alright, don’t worry. There are many other contractor’s souls here. You won’t be lonely.

Mark: You hunted other contractors’ souls too?

Walter: I did not hunt them. I saved them!

Mark: It’s the same thing! Walter: You’re quite persistent.

Beezelbub: As expected of Lucifer’s contractor.

Lucifer: Break the barrier, Mark!

Walter: As if I would allow that ——-

Mark: Haaa! Walter: Beezelbub! Beezelbub: What is the price?

Walter: Quiche!

Beezelbub: The contract is forged.

(sfx: Mark is stranged and lifted in the air by Beezelbub)

Mark: ——gghhh

Beezelbub: The time for games is over. Before Lucifer manages to break through——

(sfx: breaking glass as the barrier is broken, sound of feet landing on the ground)

Lucifer: Too late. You’ve angered me, Beezelbub.

(sfx: sound of demonic energy being summoned)

Walter: Tsk. This is troublesome——

Lucifer: Haa! (sfx: sound of demonic energy hitting Walter and Beezelbub)

Walter: gh—

Beezelbub: —-gh

Mark: No, stop, Lucifer! Lucifer: Why? Mark: If you go any further, they will die!

Walter: ——we’ll retreat for now, Beezelbub

Beezelbub: …… it looks like I must go without lunch today

(Walter and Beezelbub exit scene) Lucifer: Why did you stop me?

Mark: I have no intention on hunting the souls of other contractors

Lucifer: You want to escape from the contract don’t you? Mark: Of course, it’s hard to accept that I will have to die in a month’s time. But even so, I don’t want to exchange someone else’s soul for mine

Lucifer: As always, you are too naive

[non-binharry]

i think you guys are really viewing this from the eyes of an american person. i’m from where the shirts were manufactured, not one single business has shut down since the pandemic began. no business IS going to be shut down because of the pandemic. people here are labourers by profession (agriculture, manufacturing etc) and it’s just weird to me that comfortably settled western folk are commenting on our working conditions like it would be any different had harry not have the shirts made 1/2

(cont) you guys are weird for saying this is an issue when things wouldn’t be different for us if it were any other way. harry actually ensured those workers were paid fairly, which is more than enough. at least harry bothered to do that, while most other artists wouldn’t have cared

sorry for ranting in your asks about this but it really frustrates me. your issue is workers being exploited in a pandemic then your issue is capitalism as a system, not a man who has ensured that not only are donations made to covid relief but also that workers are fairly compensated during the process. u guys think ur real woke for thinking about workers when our lives would be no different if harry didn’t make that order for covid shirts

sorry, i just want to clear up that i meant those two issues separately. 1. having shirts produced during what we thought at the time 🥴 was the height of the pandemic, which through western media was painted to have slowed down the entire world and 2. having shirts produced by exploitative labor. the second one is something i'm constantly concerned about as a consumer, pandemic or not, in every way from electronics to food and clothing.

i can't say that every person's remark about labor came from the same place as me, but i just wanted to clarify. and i'm legitimately sorry that i mispoke and said something that goes over laborers.

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Labor of Love Chapter 5: A Critical Role Fanfic

I really can’t believe that this is the penultimate chapter of this fic, just one more chapter after this! It’s crazy. Again, the amount of support I’ve gotten over this AU is something I really appreciate, especially in these weird times. Thanks so much and I hope this chapter delivers what you need! 

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr: Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4

Preview:

Somehow or another, Essek found himself at the gym. 

Essek hated the gym...well, it was more the idea of the gym that he hated. He didn't like working out, nor did he enjoy being sweaty or sore. He had never achieved that post workout glow that so many claimed to get. Instead, when he finished working out he tended to look and feel like someone had run him over and then scraped him off the side of the road. His distaste for the gym had never been a problem before. He had a membership because...well, he felt that as a functioning adult he ought to have one and it was no more than that. 

But Essek had to face the facts...he had gained some weight. It wasn't that he wasn't active or taking the stairs...but he was simply eating more than he had ever eaten in his whole life. And frequently. That was the real kicker. Three meals a day would have been some insurmountable hurdle before. He hadn't ever been hungry and when he did eat...it all tasted bland. But now? Well, Caleb had certainly changed a few things in his life. Essek was slender as most elves were, but he felt that if he were eating sweets he ought to at least commit to the gym for minimal activity. 

Essek was on the treadmill, having plugged into to listen to a forty minute podcast as he walked at a brisk pace to get his heart rate up. Though, the way that the podcast was analyzing one of his favorite movies was enough to do that in spades. Regardless, Essek was about thirty minutes in when he noticed someone familiar on the other side of the room. 

Yasha was impossible to miss, after all she was a veritable mountain of a woman. Tall and broad and muscular in the way that was mostly left to bodybuilders. The fact she was at a gym wasn’t what was surprising to Essek...the fact that she was at his gym was what was really throwing him off. Why was she there? That was a stupid question, obviously she was there to work out like he was. What were you supposed to do when you saw someone you knew in a public place? Essek didn’t know Yasha well...she was an acquaintance, but unlike most of his other acquaintances he actually didn’t despise her so his usual plan of attack to escape as quickly as possible didn’t seem appropriate. What did people usually do in this situation? Should he walk by and see if she saw him and reacted? No, then it would seem unnatural. Better to just finish up what he was doing and hope that she just left and didn’t notice him. That seemed like the most prudent course of action. 

Essek spent the last ten minutes of his power walk trying not to crawl out of his own skin with anxiety. Essek had just finished his walk and was taking a drink from his water bottle when the sensation of being watched washed over him. Essek looked over and met Yasha’s gaze. They stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments...Yasha had just settled down from pull ups and was stretching her arms. She really was impressive, she could probably snap Essek’s spine in half by just flexing her arm. She waved at him awkwardly, and Essek...knowing he had to go through the door beside her to leave walked over in her direction. 

“Good morning,” he greeted, hoping his voice sounded normal. His smile was plastered on his face like it was duct-taped and hanging by a thread, because there was little else he could do. “I didn’t know you came here.” 

“Only recently,” Yasha confirmed, shifting on her feet as if ascertaining the best way to become smaller and less threatening...as if she were concerned that Essek was a prey animal who could be spooked at the sigh of her. “Fjord’s swimming...and I like to work out here because it’s not busy.” 

“I understand that,” Essek admitted. If there was anything worse than being sweaty and sore and uncomfortable...it was being all of those things while also around people who could judge you for it. “Well...I’m done, and I was going to grab a smoothie at the bar...so…”

Essek tried not to cringe at his blatant awkwardness. Yasha nodded seriously, and then to his surprise placed back the dumbells and looked at him expectantly. Oh. She thought it had been an invitation to join him and not a hasty retreat. Well it would be rude to correct her, Essek thought at himself. Essek couldn’t be rude to her, even if he wanted to. She was Caleb’s friend. It was strategically important to him to be nice to Caleb’s friends. And also...he didn’t want to be rude to her, which was a new development in his life because he normally liked being rude to people but the thought of being mean to Yasha made him feel like he was going to choke on his own tongue for some reason. Was this what people felt all the time? He wasn’t sure this was a positive change anymore. 

Essek meandered over to the place where a perky half-orc who looked like she could run ten miles a day and probably did hot yoga to unwind took his order. Essek got some kind of healthy smoothie monstrosity and sat down to drink in the noticeably uncomfortable chairs. It was as if they wanted to make you feel bad for sitting, another reason why Essek hated the gym. Yasha joined him, drinking her own smoothie. For the most uncomfortable minute of his life, Essek wondered if Yasha was expecting him to say something. The problem was that Essek was horrible at saying something. Or, he was at least horrible at saying something when it wasn’t one of the things that he was being paid to say. Essek still didn’t understand how people went around just...starting conversations and not seeming disingenuous. And worst of all, he was sure this would get back to Caleb and he didn’t stand a chance of escaping this conversation without fucking that up somehow.  Thankfully, Yasha took pity on him and spoke first. 

“So...Caleb,” Yasha noted. 

“Yes. Quite,” Essek said.

 And then neither of them were talking again, and Essek could feel his panic twisting at his gut. The quiet went on for at least a solid 30 seconds, with Essek squirming in that gods-awful seat and just wishing someone would just take him out with the nearest barbell. And then, Essek came to a sudden epiphany. 

“Oh...was there something you wanted to ask?” Essek offered, and Yasha nodded. 

“Yes.” 

“I see...alright?” Essek asked, hoping that Yasha wasn’t planning on being the one taking him out. 

“You like Caleb?” Yasha asked, and it wasn’t a question that was really a statement. It was a genuine curious question. 

“I do,” Essek asked, not willing to commit to the other “l” word out loud. He could only get into trouble by doing that. Yasha nodded, her expression thoughtful as she regarded him. She met his eyes briefly and then ducked back down to look at her smoothie. 

“And Caleb?” Yasha asked. 

“...you’ll have to ask Caleb about that I suspect,” Essek said. Yasha nodded seriously but didn’t lift her gaze again, instead, she seemed content with swirling the straw of her smoothie. Essek didn’t know if he could say for sure...their relationship was in a bit of a hazy spot right now. What did you call someone you went on a date with and kissed once? Who texted you saying they wanted to do it again sometime. It wasn’t like they were together.  And they certainly hadn’t had sex, so Essek wouldn’t call Caleb his lover or friend with benefits. But Essek had met his friends and been over to his house before. It was all very confusing to Essek in a way that it probably wasn’t confusing to anyone else on the planet. What would he call Caleb? His almost-boyfriend? That felt so juvenile, and yet that was the best description he could think of. 

“You make him happy,” Yasha said, looking back up at Essek. 

“...I’m glad, he makes me happy too,” Essek admitted. “All of you do...I wasn’t very happy before I met all of you, but I think I might be getting there.” 

“That’s good,” Yasha said, her quiet voice sure and firm in her conviction. Essek was about to agree with her, when he spotted Fjord ducking out from the hallway. Though Essek wouldn’t say that Fjord was his type, it was hard to deny that the man was attractive. Especially as his hair dripped and droplets traced the column of his neck and his shirt clung to his chest. He felt like to preserve Fjord’s dignity and Essek’s own honor he ought to look away. 

“Oh, hello Essek,” Fjord greeted kindly. “I didn’t expect to see you.” 

“That makes two of us,” Essek noted, trying to find Fjord’s eyes more interesting then his see-through shirt...which he was having a hard time with. 

“I...uh, heard your date with Caleb went well,” Fjord said, looking somewhat awkward for the one in the group who tended to do the talking. Essek wondered if it was because he was talking about his friend, or if it was just the topic of romance that was somewhat daunting for him. Essek nodded, only because he was bereft of any substantial answer. Fjord seemed to accept this. “Well, I’m glad. It’s good for Caleb...to, you know, have someone he likes spending time with.” 

Essek was about to say something...to agree perhaps, when Fjord’s phone buzzed. He looked at it, did a double take, and then immediately looked at Yasha. 

“Yasha, we’re gonna need to go,” Fjord said, calmly but firmly. “Issue at the bakery.” 

Yasha nodded and stood up from her seat as she did. 

“Essek, it was nice seeing you,” Fjord promised, holding out his hand. Essek took it, and was surprised but the assured grip. “Have a nice day now. We’ll see you in...three days right?”

“Thank you...you as well. I hope that everything is fine at the bakery,” Essek wished, thinking suddenly of the vow renewal. “See you then.” 

Fjord smiled and then him and Yasha were off, leaving Essek behind. Essek threw away his drink, his stomach flipping like he had just been in a car crash. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Essek grumbled to himself under his breath as he rushed out to his car. He turned on the radio in an effort to drown his own twisting and agonizing thoughts but found himself still extremely unsettled. “Why are you so stupid?” 

“Welcome back, you are listening to 836 KRN, Rosohna Hit Music, back with more of our top ten countdown. Number 1 again for the second week in a row is “Best Laid Plans” by Kaylie-”

Essek growled, and turned the radio off.    

------

By the time that Essek arrived to the party, it was in full swing at the Theylss ancestral home. Cars lined the streets, not that Essek minded parking further away. He personally always enjoyed having a moment or two to breath in the fresh night air and cool his head before interacting with his relatives. It never did him well to come into a viper den at full throttle. Essek made a subdued entrance to the party, handing off his overcoat to be hung in the closet and then finding the closest server carrying drinks. Even from the first moments, he attempted to stick to the outer fray of the party, but as always his mother sniffed him out within five minutes of arrival. 

"Essek," Deirta called, waving him over. Essek obliged her. "A wonderful suit. Did you get it at the family's tailor, darling?" 

"As always, mother," Essek sighed. He did look rather fetching that night, but then again he always did. He had opted for a black suit, but with some touches of gold as opposed to his usual silver to spice things up. He had wondered what Caleb would have thought of him tonight, and then had immediately stopped thinking about it for danger of getting an aneurism. 

 The entire den was here, half-siblings and distant cousins, “uncles” and “aunts” and relatives of every sort and enough spouses and lovers and children that it made his head spin. Usually he would find a dark corner after he got his drink (or drinks) and fade into the background after his round of greetings. Unfortunately his mother had hooked him like a fish before he could do so, and was probably planning on subjecting him to another round of introductions. The event was being held at the ancestral home, as most important den events were. Really, this was just a family reunion but with other causes. Namely, all of the relatives were here for the Vow Renewal that they were all invited to as members of Den Theylss. Essek would have to play a balancing act between den member and employee, and would have to find a way to make everyone happy. But then again, he was good at performing miracles for an atheist. 

“I am happy you made it tonight,” Deirta said as she smiled at a passing great-uncle. “I thought you might have been too busy.” 

“Too busy?” Essek asked. “For the den? Never. But what did you think I would be too busy with?”  

“Preparations, dear, that’s why we are all here, isn’t it?” Deirta pointed out. “Our Queen’s most glorious Vow Renewal, I hear it will be quite the event and that you have had a lot to do with that.”

“Don’t gloat around family, Mother, it’s a tad gauche isn’t it?” Essek said with a pointed smile. “I have done only what my employer asked of me, and little else.” 

“The only thing that is gauche is being too humble,” Deirta said. “In this fast paced time, it is important to continue to uphold the good name of Theylss in this city, and the world, Essek. And you do that, and you are almost faultless in that regard. In fact, if the rest of the relatives could follow your example I dare say our influence would be felt all the way to Tal’dorei.” 

“I am sensing a but, Mother,” Essek said. 

“Oh no caveats, I’d rather not politics right now dear.”

“I’ll pretend like you're not the one who told me that everything is politics. Well then if the den’s influence in Tal’dorei isn’t on your mind, what would you like to talk about?” 

“I should like to know about the maiden who stole my boy’s heart, enough that he should see fit to mention her to me,” Deirta said with a light disingenuous laugh. 

“Mother,” Essek said warningly. Deirta looked unimpressed...in fact, she seemed charmed at Essek’s annoyance. 

“I am aware of your private nature, Essek, and I respect that.”

“Are you?” Essek asked sarcastically.

“I am. In fact, I think it’s a good thing to keep certain things private. You have never caused a mess that I have needed to clean up, a standard that not many of your siblings or cousins have met before you nor have they after. I do have certain expectations, but I also trust that you will choose a partner befitting of your station and of our family’s reputation.”

“And if I haven’t?” Essek asked. 

“You know the answer to that, Essek,” Deirta said. “I will do everything in my power to make you see reason and try to convince you of a partnership that will equally benefit you and your chosen mate.” 

“Mate,” Essek said, nose scrunching with distaste.

“I know, I know, call me old fashioned,” Deirta sighed. “You know, your brother brought his girlfriend with him tonight. You ought to have brought yours.” 

“We aren’t together like that,” Essek told her. 

“Oh?” Deirta asked, though she didn’t sound too surprised. 

“We’ve...hung out a fair bit, but only gone on one date. That night that you called me was our first one,” Essek informed her. 

“I’m sure we could have impressed her as your second outing.”

“Mother, I’m not sure that meeting the den is the best second date idea.” 

“But you expect the arrangement to continue, as it were?”

“I should hope so...it seems like it.” 

“Oh Essek, won’t you tell me something about her? You know I could just get on the phone and find out.” 

“Yes, but you won’t.”  If you know what’s good for you, is what Essek didn’t say but his mother surely heard. 

“You know that it is only because I worry for you,” Deirta said before stopping and smoothing the lapels of his already immaculate jacket. “Only the best for my boy.”

“Of course, Mother,” Essek promised, and his mother gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and seemed to dismiss him. Essek couldn’t help his sigh of relief as he turned around, and then suddenly realized that he had been deposited right in front of Verin and his girlfriend...who for the life of him he couldn’t remember what her name was. She was half-orc and wore her hair in braids and an understated but appropriate little black dress. However, despite her orcish features, she was relatively delicate in her frame...which led him to believe the other half was drow, though he wouldn’t ask her for fear of being rude. What was her name? Sanemi? Sa...something-or-other? 

“I see Mother’s done taking you for a walk,” Verin noted, raising his glass. 

“I suppose she’s waiting for me to demonstrate my knowledge of sitting and staying,” Essek said, taking the free seat with a sigh. 

“You remember Samezi?” Verin said, motioning to his girlfriend.  

“Hello,” Essek greeted as he inclined his head to her. 

“It’s been a bit,” Samezi said, lifting her glass to her lips and taking a sip. “Still up to the usual business then?”

“As always,” Essek said. “I tend to stay busy with my job being what it is...especially now. I imagine that you are also busy, aren’t you Verin?” 

“Oh come off it,” Verin said with a roll of his eyes. “My job is just as important as yours.” 

“Of course, of course,” Essek said idly. 

“But then again, not all of us get to have a hand in the Bright Queen’s Vow Renewal,” Samezi pointed out before leaning forward and looking extremely interested. “There has to be something that you can tell us.”

“What, so you can write about it in your paper?” Verin laughed. 

“I’m an investigative journalist,” Samezi scoffed before giving Essek a shrewd look. “Though of course my colleagues in the Culture section may like to hear a rumor or two...to drum up excitement and interest of course.”  

“All I can say is, that Leylas Kryn intends for this ceremony to not only demonstrate the Xhorhassian cultural boom, but to celebrate the influx of peoples and cultures that define our country on the world stage.” 

“What a perfectly formulated answer, almost exactly word for word from the XCI press release,” Samezi sighed, almost pouting but not quite. Essek wasn’t particularly moved, though he imagined that Verin was a sucker for it. 

“Actually, exactly word for word. I was the one who wrote it,” Essek reminded her. 

“...what exactly do you do for Leylas Kryn?” Verin asked, and Essek normally would be annoyed considering he had literally been working this job for five years and had probably explained this to Verin at least a dozen times before, but he was feeling charitable today and didn’t feel like embarrassing his brother in front of his girlfriend. He probably embarrassed himself in front of her enough without his help.  

“Anything that she requires of course,” Essek said simply. 

“Like a mob enforcer,” Verin said. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, badge-boy?” 

“You really are the most insufferable person I know,” Verin scoffed. 

“I know,” Essek said smugly. “But you make it so much fun, you know?”

There was more that Verin seemingly wanted to say, when there was the sound of a bell ringing. Essek resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Could their Mother do anything without the artifice of drama? But of course she probably got off on asserting her power and dominance over all the relatives. Like beckoned dogs, conversations stuttered and they were all directed to the long and elaborate set up dinner table. Deirta sat at the head of the table, and everyone sat at their assigned seats...though there were no names everyone knew the order in which they were expected to sit. 

“Before we sit to eat, the prayer?” Deirta said as they all stood at their seats. Essek duck his head like he was expected to. “Bless us, O Light, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy radiance, through the Luxon our Lord.” 

“Blessed be,” Essek murmured along with everyone else. At that point only after Deirta took her seat, were they permitted to sit alongside her. 

The dinner itself was the usual fair afforded to them. There were about six courses, soup, salad, appetizer, entree, dessert, cheese and fruit course, and then after dinner drinks. Essek managed about two bites of each, and resisted pushing food around on his plate like a teenager. There was just nothing appetizing to hearing a distant cousin talk for the fourth time about their job in the stock exchange, or an uncle complaining about things with a vaguely racist undertone. Really the act of dinner was a performance for everyone involved. They were all supposed to hem and haw at his mother’s beautiful silverware and ancient passed-down porcelain that probably belonged in a museum somewhere, and then admire a small four bite piece of fish with an inedible garnish that the caterer had made that was so in vogue right now. 

The food wasn’t even good, Essek thought frustratedly. It just looked pretty. What was the point of eating something that looked pretty if it wasn’t sumptuous? He thought of all the simple things that Caleb and his friends had prepared, all the delicious and heartfelt food that put this celebrity caterer to shame. He hadn’t thought himself a food snob before...but it appeared that he had become one with Caleb’s help. He wondered what Caleb would do at this stifling display, food besides the point. He had the sense that Caleb could be a social chameleon when he wanted to be, not unlike him really. Essek was sure Caleb would do well amongst the den of vipers and hold his own, if his family could even get past the fact that he was a human. 

If his family could get past the fact that Essek was gay. 

Now, to the credit of his society, gay relationships were normal. After all, Leylas and Quana were their spiritual leaders of the nation...and actual leaders in the most important arena which was the public consciousness. He wouldn’t even be the first Theylss kid to have a significant other of the same sex. But it was always who you were dating that was the issue. Essek had never cared enough before to put any significant other through his family. As he watched the candles burn and fat globs of white wax drip to the antique candle holders...he wondered idly what the reaction to Caleb would be. 

Did he want that? Did he want Caleb to go through the scrutiny? Did Essek love Caleb enough to subject him to this? Or maybe it was the other way...maybe he was selfish enough to consider it. Would Caleb even like him...if he knew who Essek really was? He liked to pretend he was different...but at the end of the day would he just be a Theylss? Would he ruin everything he had with his intentions? 

Essek was sipping a dessert wine and idly checking his phone under the table, sneaking it like he was a teenager in school again. Really, he was mostly trying to distract himself from his spiralling thoughts. His mother shot him a few disapproving looks, but wouldn’t say anything unless someone else said something first. His mother was dependable like that, she never cared unless it would hurt her reputation. His phone buzzed in his hand, and it made him jump. 

Essek stared at his phone. Caleb? 

“Excuse me,” Essek said, shrugging off the looks and slipping into the hallway outside the dining room. No one really noticed him leaving, or if they did they didn’t care enough to stop him from going. After all they had just entered into the retell stories they had heard a thousand times part of the dinner, and Essek was scarcely involved enough in any of those stories to even be considered a background character they needed to call on. 

“Hello, Essek?” Caleb’s voice rang in his ear. 

“Hello?” Essek asked, confused albeit slightly delighted that Caleb was actually calling him and giving him such a clean out. 

“Are you busy at the moment?” 

The tone in Caleb’s voice took the delight right out of Essek’s mind. Essek prided himself on being able to read the mood in a room...growing up with the mother he did certainly made such a skill invaluable. It didn’t take a genius like him to figure out that Caleb sounded stressed. 

“What’s wrong?” Essek asked, ducking out into the sitting room away from prying eyes and listening ears. His back was against the wall, so that if anyone came around the corner he would be able to see them. There were plenty of things he needed, but the Theylss family inserting themselves into this situation somehow was not one of them. 

“Accident with the cake,” Caleb said. “A shelf broke and fell on it along with everything on the shelf, and basically completely smashed it. We’re going to have to remake the cake in a day.” 

“Is it possible?” Essek asked, calculating in his mind all the things that could go wrong. What would he have to do to make up for this? How could he make this situation work for his and everyone else’s advantage?

“It’s possible, we’re going to have to close the bakery and spend all night today, all day tomorrow, and maybe even the next night working on it. We hadn’t put on some of the most intricate designs so those are safe, but the flowers and the cake itself is ruined.” 

“I see,” Essek said, taking a deep breath. Okay, it was a rescue operation then. That was something Essek could certainly handle. 

"I wanted to call you first to ask...should we tell the Bright Queen?" 

"Under no circumstances. If we can fix it, it's better not to worry her," Essek said firmly before he surprised himself. "Are you in need of any extra hands?"

"Extra hands?"

"I offer my assistance of course," Essek clarified. 

"Yes, if you don't mind. We could definitely use some more help on this,” Caleb said, sounding relieved. “Danke-thank you, Essek. I can’t tell you how much that makes me feel better.”

“I’ve hardly done anything yet,” Essek said. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” 

“I’ll see you then.” 

Caleb hung up the phone and Essek immediately exited the room to where the rest of the family was seated. 

“Forgive me, but I’m going to have to leave,” Essek said, scooping up his jacket. “Work emergency.” 

“Really?” Deirta asked, eyebrows flying into her hairline. “Anything I should be concerned about?” 

“Not at all, Mother. As always, you know I can handle it,” Essek said, moving over to give her expectant turned cheek a kiss. “Have a wonderful evening, and I’ll see you all at the Vow Renewal.” 

Essek walked quickly out the door before anyone else could get a word in edgewise. He started up the car, and broke probably five different speed limits on his way to the bakery. When he arrived, the bakery seemed dark and quiet, but he had been told the back door was open. With a bit of hesitation, he opened the back door into complete chaos. 

“Essek!” Jester said, rushing to embrace him. Her smile was full of frosting and glitter...literally. She looked like she had gotten into an argument with powdered sugar and a tinsel. Her arms were soft and strong and wrapped around his middle like he was the person she had most wanted to see in this world, and Essek felt so oddly close to tears that he half wanted to run back out the door. “Oh Essek, I’m so glad you are here! Oh wow, you look so nice! I’m sorry I think I got stuff on your jacket.” 

“It is no problem,” Essek said, shucking off his jacket. He draped it over his arm with care...after all it was an expensive jacket. “I pay for dry-cleaning anyways.” 

“Is Essek here?” Caleb said, appearing from around the corner. He looked frazzled, utterly fried and blanched by stress. His hair was half-falling out of his bun, and his clothing was in general disarray...more than usual.  “Essek…” 

“Give us a moment?” Essek asked Jester, who saluted and then skipped back to the back of the shop looking pleased with herself. “Thank you for calling me.” 

“I am very glad you are here,” Caleb said breathlessly, managing a fragile smile. 

“Of course, whatever you need,” Essek said, reaching out automatically and then his hand froze. Caleb didn’t move away, and so bolstering his courage he tucked a stray lock of copper hair behind Caleb’s ear. “Everything will be fine. We’ll get what we need to get done, done.” 

“I wish I had your confidence,” Caleb said before suddenly his face flushed as he seemingly took in Essek’s outfit. Oh. Well, Essek thought. It seems like his efforts would go appreciated. It was a rather unexpected but appreciated gift during the sudden stress. 

“I never disappoint my employer, I doubt this will be the first time it happens,” Essek said. “What’s the status with everything?” 

“We remade the cakes this morning. Yasha and Fjord were just pulling them out of the freezer now,” Caleb said as they walked behind the counter. “The sugar flowers were a total loss, so Nott, Jester, and Caduceus are working on that. Still need a fresh batch of the filling and we still have an extra batch of the frosting so we’re using that to start...though we’ll probably need to make another too.” 

“And the enchantments?”

“We had extra of the syrups we were using to soak into the cake that contained the main enchantment. We have stock of the illusion enchantment, but we’ll have to redo the custom starlight enchantment though,” Caleb said as they entered the chaotic workplace. It was the part of the bakery that Essek hadn’t yet seen. There were long work tables, walk-in fridges, large industrial ovens and stoves and sinks as well. The sinks were a catastrophe of pots and pans and Essek could see the attempts to clean out the fridge where the shelf had given way.

“This,” Essek said, pointing to the mess. He rolled up his sleeves as he assessed the disaster in front of him, formulating a plan of attack. “This I can handle, as well as any assistance you may need on the enchantment. Cleaning up this will help everything flow smoother and more efficient, as well as keep things sanitary.” 

“Essek I couldn’t-”

“You can and you did, you already asked,” Essek informed him as he put his foot down. 

“But you are wearing a suit that probably costs more than all of my clothes put together,” Caleb argued. 

“And I’ll buy a new suit and I’ll buy you one too while I’m at it,” Essek said shortly, as he placed his hands on his hips. “Go mitigate your own disaster, I’ve got this handled.” 

“Thank you,” Caleb said, full of gratitude. And for a moment Essek was sure Caleb was going to kiss him, but then Fjord’s yelp drew him away with another look. Essek surveyed the damage in front of him, just as something was thrown at his head and obscured his vision. Essek yanked the offending cloth off and realized he was holding an apron. 

“You might need that,” Beauregard pointed out. Essek looped it over his head and tied it securely to his waist, thankfully it was grey. Grey was a color that Essek could work with.  

“Now he looks like one of the team,” Jester said happily as she delicately rolled sugar into beautiful petals. 

“It suits you,” Caduceus said, walking by with a tray full of decorations and sparkles and jars of glittering orbs. 

“Where are the gloves?” Essek asked, yanking open the dishwasher which...thank all the gods in the merciful plains was empty. 

“Second drawer to the left!” Veth shouted back shrilly. Essek opened the drawer and found a pair of bright pink rubber gloves. It almost hurt him physically to put them on...but oh, the things he would do for love. Essek immediately set about separating out the hand-wash-only utensils from the machine-washables, after which he did a cursory soak to the hardest hit items bowls with dried-on batter or fillings or any other number of things that may occur during the baking process that was still a mystery to Essek. The rest of it was power-washed and then loaded up into the two industrial grade dishwashers efficiently. Even with both full and running, there was still a large amount of things to clean, though it was already much neater and more organized. Not knowing where things were supposed to be placed, and not willing to break the concentration of those who needed it to ask, he set about laying out the rest of the hand-washed things by category so it would be easy to find as they dried and then scrubbing down the counters that had been marred by the dirty dishes. 

Essek was just hand-drying some of the wooden spoons when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Caduceus standing in front of him with a tea-cup 

“Want to give this a try?” Caduceus asked Essek. Essek looked to see the table of decorators all holding their own cups, and a tea-set placed on the work-bench. 

“We are taking a fiver,” Beau answered the question that had just popped into Essek’s brain. 

“Oh,” Essek said, as Caduceus pressed a cup into his hands. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Caduceus said. “It’s important to take a deep breath and a minute, especially during creative pursuits.” 

“I haven’t done anything particularly creative,” Essek pointed out, looking upon the work table that was overflowing with beautiful white sugar roses, and beautiful dark purple sugar calla lilies, and silver hydrangeas. Yasha was admiring some of them and gave Essek a shy wave that Essek returned. 

“Come over here,” Jester said as she waved him over. Essek walked over and saw what Jester had been furiously working at. He nearly went breathless at the picture perfect miniature statues of both Leylas and Quana together. They were both dressed in the outfits that they would wear to the Vow Renewal, on Jester’s tome-pad was the references and pictures she had been given. The amount of detail that had gone into the recreation was stunning, from the diamond drops of the earrings Leylas would be wearing, to Quana’s wedding band on her tiny little finger. 

“Jester, this is absolutely beautiful,” Essek said, in awe. 

“I was working on it before everything went to shit so mini-L and mini-Q were safe from the Shelves of Doom,” Jester explained. “They are actually made of modeling chocolate, so they are completely edible.” 

“That’s incredible,” Essek said, continuing to look on with longing. He didn’t understand how a person discovered such a talent for art and gave it such an interesting application. 

“Thank you,” Jester said, nearly glowing with praise. Essek felt his mouth attempting to twist up into a smile...and he wondered if he was actually doing it right. Jester didn’t correct him, so he assumed he was doing it alright. It was then that he noticed that Caleb wasn’t in the kitchen proper, he was sitting by the door with Frumpkin nearly spilling out of his lap. 

The cake itself was on the stand, yet to be decorated besides a base of white frosting. It was sitting in the walk in fridge, which Fjord closed before accepting his own cup of tea from Caduceus. Essek felt a sense of relief, that at least the cake itself was done, though he knew the decorating would be just as tiring and time-consuming as the making.  

“Caleb?” Essek asked, walking over to where he was leaned against the wall. When Essek approached, Caleb immediately startled and then nearly fell off his stool. He looked around for a moment, like he had lost track of where he was, before his gaze settled on Essek. Frumpkin stood up and nudged his head beneath Caleb’s chin, purring so loudly that even Essek heard him. Caleb spent a moment or two stroking along Frumpkin’s flank. For a moment Caleb met Frumpkin’s eyes, and then with a pleased soft meow Frumpkin jumped down dutifully. He immediately trotted over to Essek and rubbed his body against his legs, his tail flicking with pleasure. Essek scooped up the cat, its wide eyes looking into Essek’s with a force that just Essek want to squeeze this cute little creature and never let it go. For a moment Essek stared at the cat before he came to a sudden realization.

“Your cat’s a familiar!” Essek said, feeling a bit betrayed. He settled Frumpkin down carefully, and then propped his hands on his hips. 

“Guilty as charged,” Caleb said apologetically. 

“And here I thought you liked me,” Essek said to the cat, who had sat and gave Essek a plaintive meow, like Frumpkin expected Essek to bend over backwards to pick him up again. 

“He does like you,” Caleb laughed. “He also perhaps did get some direction to be extra cute in your company.” 

“A scoundrel, just like his owner,” Essek said with a haughty sniff. Caleb got up from his stool stiffly and stretched, raising his arms above his head. His shirt came up with it, and Essek felt the burning need to look away. It was too late though. Happy trail. Caleb had a happy trail, and Essek was probably emitting a scream that only dogs could hear as his brains nearly boiled over. 

He had never thought like this in whole life, not even when he had been in mutually beneficial relationships. Essek had never felt the whip-crack of desire smack him across the face and do funny things to his heart before. Was this what normal people felt about strangers and celebrities and people they liked all the time? What a totally disconcerting sensation but more importantly...oh Gods, he needed to get laid. 

“We have some more work to get done tonight,” Caleb explained, forcing Essek to refocus. He hoped Caleb didn’t think he had been staring at him like he was a piece of meat. “I would like to at least get the buttercream frosting done so that way we can just focus on the decorating tomorrow.” 

“You’re going to want to see him do that,” Fjord said. “Caleb’s really good at that.”

“Don’t talk me up too much,” Caleb said as he grabbed the cup of tea that Caduceus had set down on the workbench for him. Essek finally took a sip of his own tea. It was a fragrant blend, blueberry and blackcurrant and elderberry came on the tongue first but with the steam came the smooth notes of bold black tea and the sweet floral notes of hibiscus and some kind of flower. 

“This tea is lovely,” Essek told Caduceus. 

“Thank you, I get most of the ingredients from my family back home,” Caduceus said. 

“Here,” Caleb said, sliding Essek a plate full of cookies that Veth and Fjord were skimping from in turn. “That should go nicely with that.” 

“Have you ever had a macaron, Essek?” Jester asked excitedly, motioning to a certain kind of cookie on the plate. When Essek shook his head, she smiled even broader. “You’ve got to try one.” 

Essek picked up the small cookie. It looked like a sandwich, and was much lighter than he had expected. He popped it into his mouth. The crust, if Essek could even call it a crust, shattered and melted away as if it had never existed to begin with. The cookie itself was soft and utterly toothsome with just a little bit of chew, while flavors of vanilla, almond, and pistachio perfectly melted together and leaving Essek sighing with pleasure. Essek looked up to see Jester looking at him intently from where she was basically laying on the table. 

“Essek, did you realize that you are pretty sexy when you eat?” Jester asked very seriously. 

“What does that even mean?” Essek asked, feeling his ear twitch with annoyance. 

“Oh nothing man, you look like you are really enjoying putting that in your mouth,” Beau snickered.  

“I don’t appreciate that innuendo,” Essek said with a roll of his eyes. He did his absolute best to sneak a glimpse at Caleb, who had half-sunk into the seat he was in and was looking very flushed. Weirdly, Essek wanted to shake Jester’s hand for this unexpected gift. Well then. He grabbed another cookie. This one was much plainer and Essek took a bite. Who knew that a shortbread cookie could become a revelation. It was light, buttery and crumbling and deceptively simple enough that it made Essek wonder if even he could make something like that. But also dipped into Caduceus’s tea? A perfect match, Essek could imagine eating these cookies every day for the rest of his life. “This might be up there with the Radler cupcake, Caleb.”

“I could add lemon zest to them,” Caleb offered. 

“Don’t you dare,” Essek warned. “I’ll force you to make them all the time.”  

“I wouldn’t mind, if it made you happy,” Caleb said with a shy smile. Essek caught his smile and met it with a smile of his own...an actual smile, that felt a little strange blossoming on his face. He wasn’t sure he had the muscles developed to actually smile genuinely, but if Caleb kept looking at him like he had just hung the moon from the sky he was sure he would get into practice. 

“You two are flirting again,” Beauregard groaned. Fjord flicked some crumbs at Beau, and her annoyance immediately evaporated and she flicked it back. Essek realized that she was most likely joking. 

“They are cute,” Yasha said, chiding Beau with a soft almost-smile that looked somewhat bittersweet. 

“I’m not cute, I’m devastatingly attractive,” Essek noted. 

“Do you always have to be patronizing?” Beau asked. 

“Yes, I do,” Essek said with a smug smile. 

“I’m going to do some frosting,” Caleb said, patting Essek’s shoulder. He didn’t move closer to kiss him or hug him...as much as he might have liked that in theory, Essek wasn’t sure yet how he felt about overt displays of affection. But Essek did catch his fingers for just a moment, and met Caleb’s gaze. He felt it warm him all the way from the tips of his ears to his toes, settling comfortably in his belly like the cookies and the warm tea. 

“Alright, back to work folks!” Veth said, clapping her hands. 

“I’ll help you put away the utensils,” Fjord offered to Essek. “I’ll show you where everything goes.” 

“Ah, thank you,” Essek said as he went to join Fjord. He opened the drawers and cabinets and demonstrated where everything went and in what order, and Essek did his best to commit those things to memory. Not that he assumed he would ever have to help in the back of the bakery ever again, but it was always good to be prepared for the unexpected. Essek quite liked organizing anyways, it was the reason that all of his clothing was organized by color in his closet. He spent a while doing that, before going over to help Yasha and Beauregard clean up the floors and counters. He got the sense that the frantic energy of the hours before was winding down, and the Mighty Nein seems to feel relieved that they would make it for the Vow Renewal. Essek had just finished when he looked over at what Caleb was up to. 

He was spinning the cake, which was terrifying to Essek but apparently no one else found it unusual. With practiced flicks of wrists and inhumanly steady hands, ivory buttercream became drapes and flowers and embellishments. All of them perfectly spaced apart and nearly sewed together with militaristic accuracy. The similarity between this and the precarious act of copying spells into a spellbook was almost eerie. He was on the second tier of the cake out of the tower of six, and then just as easily transitioned up to the third tier. 

“Caleb’s in the zone right now,” Fjord translated, and Essek realized that most of the others were gathering their bags. They all looked absolutely exhausted, and Essek checked his watch. Two in the morning...he was used to being awake at odd hours, after all, he only needed to trance for four hours a day. But for all of them? This must be torture. “I hate to ask, but Veth called Yeza and he’s going to help me get everyone home. I know Caleb will refuse until he’s done so do you think…?”

“I’ll get Caleb home, don’t worry,” Essek promised. Fjord gave Essek a clap on the shoulder and a grateful smile, before herding the obviously extremely sleepy Mighty Nein out the door, sans Caleb. Essek perched himself on a stool and watched Caleb work, steady and sure for at least another hour. Essek committed to memorizing the way his wrists flicked and his hands moved and the delicious profile he cut, and though he really should have felt bad ogling at Caleb like that he didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. Caleb finished up the third tier of the basic frosting decorations before pulling back and taking stock of his work. It was at that time, he looked around and realized that they were alone. 

“Oh…” Caleb said, obviously putting things together. 

“Put the cake away, I’ll get you home now,” Essek said, not necessarily an order but not not an order either. “You’ll do well with fresh eyes tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if I can get it done,” Caleb said, voice weighted with stress. “Sheisse, this is such a big opportunity and-” 

“You’ll get it done,” Essek said calmly. “I have absolute faith in your ability.” 

“I wish I could be as certain as you, my friend,” Caleb said with a fragile smile that filled Essek’s heart up with sweetness he never thought he could feel. Gods, he loved him. 

“Essek Theylss never fails, it’s my personal policy,” Essek said firmly. “Now come along.” 

Essek helped Caleb wheel the cake into the walk-in freezer, pointedly away from the remaining shelves. Essek waited as Caleb locked up his shop and started his car, making sure the heat was on and the car warmed up for Caleb as he slid into the passenger seat. He was carrying Frumpkin, who was now curled up in his lap and probably getting cat fur all over Essek’s car...did familiars shed? Essek, strangely, found he didn’t care as he watched Caleb so tenderly stroking his familiar back to soothe them both. 

“We’ll still have to close the bakery tomorrow most likely,” Caleb said, expression dark with worry. “We didn’t do any of our usual preparations and we don’t have any stock...it’s not that sort of business.”

“If you have a daily profit average, I can see your business is compensated,” Essek offered as he put the car in drive. 

“No, no. It’s not necessary. One day does not a failed business make,” Caleb said as he ran his fingers through his hair, and then pulled his hair out of the tie and began to redo it. “I don’t think I really and truly expressed...how much you being here means to me.” 

“I have to admit, I imagined our second date going a bit differently,” Essek jokes, pulling out of the parking lot. 

“Ah…” Caleb said, sounding lost for words. 

“I’m sorry,” Essek apologized, feeling the prick of panic at the back of his neck. He turned left, and calculated how long this would take. Only five minutes, it seemed so minute...just five minutes with Caleb when Essek wanted to fill his time with Caleb unabashedly. Though he supposed he was grateful for the opportunity afforded to him...and he shouldn’t ask for more. He couldn’t get too greedy after all, he didn’t even know what Caleb wanted. Almost-boyfriend or not, that was really the issue here. It was something he felt he couldn’t breach...he couldn’t pick it without bruising it. What if he went too fast and ruined it completely?  His worries caught in his throat and stayed there, slowly screaming away. 

“No, no,” Caleb said with a weak laugh. “I was about to agree with you...but let me just say? I’m grateful for it. I...”  

“Your job is important to you,” Essek said, trying to focus on what he could actually work with and salvage in this situation. “And I respect that, I hope you know that. I want you and your friends to succeed.” 

“...I hope you understand that I appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” Caleb said, voice deep with feeling. 

“I hope you understand that I’m certainly not a white knight,” Essek laughed bitterly. “I’m just a little bit selfish is all.” 

“Selfish?”

“I want you to be happy,” Essek admitted, the admission feeling oddly intimate. He cautiously glanced at Caleb, only to see him smiling at him in return. “Regardless of anything else. I...I want you to feel like you are able to rely on me, just a little bit. I have to admit, I’m a bit jealous about how you are with your friends...so it makes me happy for you to depend on me and that you called me to help you. Even with circumstances being what they are...I was happy. I am sorry it came at your expense however...”

I would do just about anything as long as I got to spend time with you, Essek didn’t say. He would wear stupid pink rubber gloves and clean a kitchen and go to the gym and do things outside of eat, sleep and work, and weirdly enjoy all of it. He felt useful and appreciated, and just that was enough to satisfy him when he had never been satisfied with anything before in his whole life. That was the magic of love, he supposed. It made even the most boring and normal things into something significant.   

“I’m not as perfect as you seem to think I am,” Caleb admitted suddenly. “As you can see...I’m obsessive. I get anxious and I just escalate situations that don’t need to be escalated because I can’t let things go.” 

“Ha, you are talking to the king of obsessive behavior over here,” Essek snorted very unattractively. He was horrified with himself but Caleb didn’t seem to mind, in fact he looked at Essek clearly...like he was really seeing him. How did he just do that? No one else had ever seen him and liked him before in his whole life, and yet Caleb acted like knowing Essek was as easy as breathing. 

“I should have just called you just to update you but...I wanted to see you too,” Caleb admitted with a wry grin. “You have no idea how happy it made me...for you to be there. I hope we can have something less dramatic...for our third date.” 

“Oh,” Essek said dumbly, mostly because he felt like his brain was now operating at 25% capacity. The rest of it was screaming at him to pull the car over and just kiss this man silly. Thankfully he didn’t need to drive much further because he was just pulling into Caleb’s driveway and not putting them in any danger for a car accident. 

“Unless you are opposed?” Caleb asked cautiously, propping open the door so Frumpkin could hop out. And yet, Caleb made no move to leave. 

“No!” Essek said forcefully. “No, I mean yes, a third date. Yes. I want to have a third date.” 

 “Do you have any ideas?” Caleb asked. “Something that you want to do, since our second date was for my benefit mostly.” 

“There is an event coming up,” Essek said slyly. “How would you like to be my date?” 

“I would be honored,” Caleb said looking at Essek for a moment before leaning over the seat. Essek met him with momentum, and finally they kissed again. Caleb’s lips earnest and gentle, and Essek nearly sighed with comfort against him. Essek felt more real than he had ever had in his whole life, grounded instead of just floating through. How odd it was, to become a protagonist in your own life. How strange, that everything could feel new with a kiss. Unfortunately, his lungs were his own enemy. He pulled away to catch his breath, and to his surprise Caleb pressed another kiss to Essek’s forehead. “Thank you, Essek. Guten nacht.”  

“...good night,” Essek said when he remembered how to speak. Caleb slipped out of his car and went into the house. Essek’s face was burning, his forehead was suddenly the epicenter of his heartbeat. Essek pressed his hand to his mouth, to cover his own smile but then decided against it. 

If the stars saw him be happy, what should he care?