#the soft color palette here is killing me

[escyn]

Radiant Emperor Week Day 7: Like Knows Like | Two Unlike Things

Ft. Ouyang and Baoxiang actually going at it (wip-inspired by shelley’s official fanfic, the art that goes with it, and the sex tier-list; id in alt)

[gravitycavity]

Sunshine (Pomni x Ragatha) Chapter 5 - And Fresh-Fallen Rain

[Click here to read from the beginning on AO3!]

Cover art by @blukiar

It was only a matter of time before Pomni blinked herself awake. 

Wave after wave of pulsing pain, synchronized with the beat of her heart, relentlessly pounded the back of her skull. A landscape of crimson curls, wild weeds, and shimmering stars expanded, contracted, and twisted before her half-lidded eyes. The disorienting sight was more than enough to make her stomach do flips — and fail to stick the landing every single time.

But even so, it was hard to feel anything but content. 

The wind was fierce and frigid, but Pomni didn’t know it. She didn’t feel the bitter cold, even as gale after freezing gale slashed her skin like the crack of a whip. All the pain in the world wouldn’t have phased her, not as long as the wind’s touch highlighted the slightly-wet spots where Ragatha’s lips had so lovingly grazed her face. 

Stalks of overgrown grass wavered as a brisk squall flew across the yard; a palette of fallen leaves, which just so happened to be sleeping in its path, was cast into the sky. Red, yellow, orange, and brown — the cozy colors swished and swirled through the air, then drifted back to their resting spot below the jungle-like lawn. 

It only took a moment for the breeze to return. Coming from the other direction now, it passed through Ragatha’s red yarn hair before pummeling Pomni’s face. All at once, the saccharine aroma of the ragdoll’s locks — strawberries and soil and fresh-fallen rain — introduced itself.  

And it was heavenly. 

Pomni’s eyelids drooped further, and a dumb, wobbly smile blossomed on her face. As her tiny arms wrapped around Ragatha’s plush, guffawing belly, she didn’t worry about how embarrassed she was to have fainted, or what Ragatha’s little kisses had meant, or why someone like her even deserved to be treated with such affection. Those pesky doubts were for future Pomni to agonize over; for now, they crumbled to pieces with each precious peak of Ragatha’s laughter.

“Oh! There she is!” Ragatha flinched as Pomni’s arms enfolded her. “I was starting to worry I up and killed you…”

“Nope! Still kicking.” Pomni chirped, “But just barely…” 

Slowly, Ragatha’s giggles began to peter out, but their spirit still tickled every word she spoke. “Goodness me — aren’t you in a good mood! Your head didn’t hit the ground too hard, did it?”

Pomni waffled. She decided not to tell Ragatha about the big lump on the back of her head — the redhead would just worry herself sick, after all. “...I’m fine. Just a little bit dizzy.”

“I really am sorry.” Ragatha placed her soft hands atop Pomni’s, idly dragging her digits across the jester’s worn leather gloves. “I should have warned you before I…” she paused. “Well, y’know…”

Pomni could feel the heat rising in Ragatha’s hands. She waited patiently for her to finish, but as the silence dragged on, it became increasingly clear that she’d have to be the one to break it. 

“No, it’s okay! Really! I just, um, wasn’t expecting…that. And if you think about it, it was actually my fault. I wouldn’t have fainted if I had just listened—”

“No, no! It was sweet! I don’t know. I just figured…” Ragatha said, a nervous tilt to her tone, “...since you were having so much fun getting into your character, I ought to return the favor.” Ragatha's hands were twitching now, “And…”

Somewhere nearby, a ladybug crested a wobbling blade of grass, flitted its wings, then buzzed away to who-knows-where. Another brisk gust wandered through the dilapidated yard, sending an armada of dandelion seeds sailing swiftly through the air.

“And…?” Again, Pomni was the one to shatter the silence. 

“Oh, nevermind.” Ragatha forced out a laugh. Pomni swore she could hear the woman’s blush. “I think I’ve just got an overactive imagination.”

Another pause. That made three. 

Pomni’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Unsure if this was even real, she slipped her hand out from beneath Ragatha’s, eager to simply trace the woman’s strong, soft frame…

… but her finger didn’t get very far before arriving at the gaping hole slashed across the ragdoll’s abdomen. 

Guilt flattened Pomni’s heart like a speeding train. Holding Ragatha close, the jester sat up in a snap, examining her friend’s injuries with a level of determination that could only be described as ‘obsessive’. 

Talk about a mood-killer — it was as if Pomni had never even bothered to stitch Ragatha up at all. Stuffing leaked out of the ragdoll here, there, everywhere. Nearly all of Pomni’s makeshift threads, nowhere close to well-crafted, were already failing — if they weren’t coming loose, the strings themselves were coming apart. 

Pomni clenched her teeth. Her brow descended, and her lips trembled fiercely. 

“Hey, hey! Don’t cry! You don’t have to worry about me.” Tenderly, Ragatha pushed herself against Pomni's little frame, “As long as you’re with me, I’ll be okay, Sweetheart.”

“I’m not sad.” A stormy look came to Pomni’s face. “I’m angry.”

“...Angry?”

“Stupid #$&%ing tree monster. Stupid #$&%ing Caine!” Pomni bared her teeth, “Stupid #$&%ing circus!”

“H-Hey, now! Take a breath, okay? Let’s not get ourselves worked up—”

“No! I’m pissed!” In a snap, Pomni leapt to her feet, firmly holding Ragatha in her arms. “I’m not gonna let you get hurt anymore,” she said, making a beeline toward the haunted mansion, “Not a single scratch, from now until we escape this horrible circus together — I promise!”

Ragatha’s eyes were sparkling, though Pomni was too focused on climbing the front porch’s creaky staircase to notice. “Pomni, Y-You don’t have to do all that…!”

“Too bad. I want to.”

“O-Oh…” Ragatha’s breath felt warm against Pomni’s chest. “I see…”

Without another word. Pomni summited the porch stairs, where a pair of double-doors patiently awaited her arrival. She eyed the doorbell, but her hands were full — so she opted for three mighty kicks at the doors’ expense instead. “Hello? Anyone home?” 

Pomni and Ragatha waited for an answer. And then waited some more. Pomni’s shrill voice echoed at least a dozen times in the stiff silence. 

“Hellooo!?” Pomni’s ill-fitting boot pounded the door thrice more. “We don’t have all day, you know! Open up!”

“Pomni! It’s been five seconds!” Ragatha chided, “Don’t be rude!”

“Rude? What am I doing — interrupting supper time? They’re NPCs.”

“I know that! But still. It just feels so wrong…”

A relaxed smile found its way to Pomni’s face — at this point, the jester wouldn’t have been surprised if Ragatha were hiding a pair of angel wings underneath that pretty dress of hers. “Let me guess. You’re the type of person who feels guilty about not giving equal attention to all of your stuffed animals, aren’t you?”

“I—” Ragatha sputtered, glancing off. “N-No! I’m thirty years old! What makes you think I own stuffed animals?”

Pomni raised an eyebrow.  

Ragatha had been caught red-handed, and she knew it. It was incredible how quickly her face flushed completely pink. “Okay, first of all, how dare you attack me like this—”

Before Ragatha could even finish her tongue-in-cheek response, both girls simply lost it. Their uncontrolled, side-splitting laughter — one giggling, one cackling like a witch — spun together into a harmonious duet, and for a fleeting moment, both captives felt like they were home. 

“Alright, alright.” Ragatha wiped at her eyes. “Enough joking around. How about I just ring the doorbell for you, Sweetheart?”

“Huh?! No way! You have to stay still or you’re going to rip yourself! Look, I’ll just set you down—”

“On the dirty porch? Are you out of your mind?” Ragatha reached for the ornate button beside the door. 

“Hey! What are you doing?! I just told you—”

“Oops!” Ragatha poked the button, then quickly fell back into Pomni’s arms like a helpless princess. “Sorry, dear. Didn’t hear you!”

Pomni grumbled, and the doorbell replied with its signature chime. Windswept shutters battered cracked windows as Pomni and Ragatha stood there, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Pomni’s patience was in short supply. She stamped her foot, and the old porch whined. “Seriously?”

“Maybe the entrance is around the back? My old apartment building was like that.” Ragatha said. “Ordering anything by mail was just the worst. It’s like — I get that the mail carriers had to stick to a tight schedule, but they would never read the signs. Oh, and trick-or-treat was a nightmare every Halloween—”

Ragatha’s riveting tale was cut short as, at last, the double-doors swung open at the sound of the magic words — trick-or-treat.

Ragatha’s mouth fell open. Pomni wrinkled her brow. Both women studied the other’s outfit in stunned silence — and suddenly, Caine’s choice of costumes didn’t seem quite so arbitrary. 

“Ohhh…” They nodded in sync. “Right…”

Cautiously, Pomni poked her head through the door frame. If the scent of stale tobacco pouncing upon her senses was any indication, the surprises weren’t over yet. 

“It’s…” Pomni breathed, “...an elevator…?”

“Ooh, and an old-fashioned one, too!” Ragatha tapped her fingers together, excitedly peering inside. 

The interior was nothing if not visually striking. Each of its four walls, carved from cherrywood, hosted polished panels gilded with gold. Winding bands of white and black and gold and blue danced a tango across the smoke-stained carpet. An expensive-looking chair sat in the corner; an equally-elegant end table, complete with a flickering lamp, complimentary cigars, and a half-filled ashtray, sat to the left. 

“Gosh, and just look at all these little aesthetic flourishes!” Ragatha gushed. “Folks back then really put effort into making every little thing look beautiful. You know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh. S-Sure…”

“Sometimes I wish that attitude would make a comeback. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just an old soul…” 

Pomni blinked, regarding the elevator’s interior through empty pupils. She would have instinctively eyed the exit had she not already been standing in the middle of it. 

The jester couldn’t recall something as simple as her own name — but, by some cruel twist of fate, everything else about the life she’d had stolen from her remained crystal clear in her head: including her swarming, overcrowded menagerie of obsessive anxieties.

Back home, Pomni’s teeny-tiny cubicle — something she couldn’t believe she actually missed now — was located on one the higher floors of her employer’s drab highrise. Entering the lobby, a lengthy carpet led the eye to a conveniently-placed pair of lifts. Their metal doors, constantly opening and closing as employees funneled in and out, was a sure sign that another busy day of work lay ahead.

Pomni was quite familiar with the contraptions — which was reason enough for the tie-wearing twenty-something, armed with her trusty backpack, to begin each morning with a hard left towards the musty concrete stairwell instead. By the time she’d reach her floor, the young accountant would be out-of-breath, weak in the knees, and far sweatier than any sane person would ever like to be. In her book, though, it was worth the trouble. She would do anything in her power to avoid the sensory torture that was riding in one of those cramped sardine cans. 

Elevators were awful. Just awful. Women wearing far too aggressive perfume; men who had forgotten to wear any deodorant at all. Extroverted co-workers trying to make small talk; creepy strangers trying to hit on her. Idiots with no concept of personal space; morons with no respect for the fire marshall’s occupancy limit clearly posted on the wall in big, bold letters. 

But being stuck inside of a tiny box with eight other people was a dream compared to the experience of riding alone — where her mind could wander, and the simmering fear of some catastrophic malfunction could consume her thoughts. What if the power went out? What if she got stuck? What if she were trapped inside and ran out of oxygen? What if the cables snapped, and the final moments of her life would be her screaming in horror as the car was sent plummeting down the shaft?

Nope. Pomni didn’t like elevators. Not one bit. Sensitive to Ragatha’s feelings, however, the young woman tried her hardest to force a smile onto her face. “Wow. C-Classy…” 

For a moment, Ragatha didn’t even react. “...You’re nervous.” she tilted her head in concern, “What’s the matter, Sweetheart?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s the matter!” Pomni lied, and rather poorly, at that. “I was just…” she floundered, “...admiring the craftsmanship! Gee, don’t you wish they made stuff like this nowadays?”

“...Yeah. I just said that.”

“Right…! S-So…! Anyway…!”

Pomni closed her eyes, ducking her face behind Ragatha’s shoulders. Oh, come on! What are you waiting for? Just go! It’s just an elevator! You’ve had your whole life to be a coward — now’s the time to be brave. For her! You can do that, can’t you!?

The shaking jester steeled herself. The sole of her oversized boot departed from the sturdy wooden porch, swung forward, flirted with the elevator’s artsy carpet, pressed down… 

…and the entire car shifted with an ear-splitting creak. 

Pomni’s whole body seized up — she couldn’t stumble back onto the porch fast enough. Nope. Nope. Abso-#@%$ing-lutely not.

“Pomni! You are nervous!” Ragatha rubbed at her chest, “Oh, no — Ugh! I’m sorry! Are you afraid of elevators?”

Pomni squirmed in place. Her gut commanded her to keep up her defenses — to deny, deny, deny, because showing the slightest inkling of vulnerability had been punished so severely in the past. Despite all of her strongest instincts, however, the soft look of concern on Ragatha’s face hit her like a magic spell.

“Um,” Pomni’s shoulders slumped, “Maybe a teensy-tiny bit...”

“Oh, Sweetheart…” Ragatha drew closer, “Forget it, then. Why don’t we try looking for another way in?”

“N-No! It’s fine! This way is the fastest!”

“But I want you to be comfortable, too…”

“You’re worried about me?!”

Ragatha twisted her lips. “Is that bad…?”

“Yes!”

“O-Oh…”

“God, Ragatha — can’t you just be selfish for once in your freaking life!?” Pomni’s voice was sharpened to a fine tip. “I mean…look at yourself! You’re falling apart at the seams — literally!”

“Pomni! Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Watch me!” Pomni squished Ragatha against her chest before the ragdoll could even think to protest. Surging with adrenaline, she clenched her jaw, made peace with her god, and barreled forward. 

The ancient elevator quaked beneath her feet; each time it stirred, her body seized, preparing itself for the whole contraption to plummet into the endless abyss below. Pomni quailed at the sound of squeaking metal, cowered at the buzz of hydraulics, and pined after the whistling wind outside the car — a beacon of safety and stable footing. 

She shivered, choking on every haggard breath that just wasn’t enough — but somehow, the slight weight in her arms gave her the courage to open her eyes and face the music. 

“I…” Pomni stood in the center of the elevator. She looked down at a begrudgingly-happy Ragatha, each stammered word framed by bouts of breathless laughter, “...I did it!” 

Ragatha beamed, practically singing. “You did!” 

“Yes, indeed!” A series of polite claps sounded from behind. “Jolly good show, darling!”

Pomni just couldn’t stop smiling. “It was, wasn’t it?” she agreed. Sticking out her chest, the young woman pulled in a deep breath, and then…

…Wait a minute! Pomni spun around on a dime. Who said that!?

A ghostly figure, surrounded by an otherworldly aura, sat with her legs crossed in the elevator’s cushioned chair. Her outfit, equally as old-fashioned as her surroundings, evoked all the stylings of a suffragette. Her wide-brimmed hat cast a spooky shadow over her face. Her ruffled shirt was tucked neatly into a long, floral-print skirt. A silk sash spanned the length of her chest, bearing a progressive slogan spelled out in a simple typeface.  

An eerie smile crawled across the phantom’s ashen face. Slowly, she looked up from the book in her lap, and the lamp’s struggling flame gasped its final breath, “Going up?”

Pomni SHRIEKED. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” the ghost marked her place with a bookmark, closed her tome, and sharply raised her other hand, “Dining room. Fifth floor.”

With a light ‘ding’, the elevator’s sole exit slammed shut, casting the car in total darkness. The elevator rumbled as if caught in an earthquake, rusted gears whirring and whining all the way. 

“Uh…” Ragatha’s face fell. She looked up at Pomni, who was taking things exactly as well as you would expect. 

“WHAT?! HEY! NONONO! WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

“There’s the handrail, darling.” the ghost pointed with a wink, “You might want to make use of it sooner rather than later.”

“NONONO! LET ME OUT!” Pomni pounded her foot against the door, “WAITWAITWAITWAITWAIT—”

The ghost shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Suddenly, the elevator shot into the air at gravity-defying speeds, thrusting Pomni and Ragatha roughly into the floor — and pinning them there for the remainder of their abrupt ascent. 

🎪  🎪  🎪 

The haunted lift halted the same way it had started.

Painfully. 

The doors slid open with an innocent chime, and the girls shivered in sync as the ghost’s ethereal high-heels passed straight through them. 

“Right this way, ladies.” the phantom twirled her fingers. A magical aura surrounded Pomni and Ragatha, dragging their aching forms behind the ghost as she stepped gingerly out of the car. 

A cozy dining room awaited beyond the threshold. Autumn-toned streamers stretched across the ceiling. A perimeter of potatoes, turnips, and radishes, strung up on strings and carved with grotesque faces, was proudly displayed on each wall. A large banner pinned to the wall read ‘ALLHALLOWTIDE GREETINGS’, just in case the apple-bobbing stations weren’t sufficiently on-the-nose.

A long, wooden table was situated in the exact center of the room, dominating the space. The ghostly woman sat herself at its head, and, with a flick of her finger, sat her dazed guests across from each other. 

“Well, well, well!” The ghostly specter fanned her face with her weighty novel. “Do my eyes deceive me, or has another troupe of wayward rabble-rousers dared to trespass upon the esteemed estate of—”

“Oh, God!” Pomni, green in the face, scrambled to slap her hands over her mouth. “Oh, holy #$@%—” She swiped the closest open receptacle she could find — a gorgeous Edwardian vase — and held her mouth against the opening. Her whole frame crumpled forward as her body quite ungracefully emptied itself out.

“P-Pomni!” Ragatha’s fingers grazed the side of her face. “Oh my goodness — are you alright?!”

The jester groaned. Plopping the vase back onto the table, she weakly nodded, trembling hands hugging her ailing stomach. “I’ll be fine. J-Just…give me a second…” she faceplanted into the large heap of candy corn piled on her plate. “This happens more often than you’d think…”

Ragatha pouted, watching Pomni’s face sink deeper into candy corn mountain. Individual pieces slid off of the young woman’s plate and scattered across the table. “Remember your breathing, okay, Sweetheart?”

Pomni flashed a flaccid thumbs-up.

“My word! What is the meaning of this?!” The ghostly apparition clenched her fists, lips curled back in disgust. “Perhaps if your detestable generation spent less time listening to that boorish ‘jazz’ music — and I’m being generous calling it music at all — you’d have room in those cramped skulls  to remember proper etiquette!”

In a flash, she tore open her book —  the cover read, ‘THE LADY’S BOOK OF COMMON ETIQUETTE & ASSORTED DEMONIC SPELLS — 1860 EDITION’ in embossed, glossy lettering.

The ghost loudly cleared her throat. She pointed to the text with a manicured fingernail,  “Immediately upon entering the parlor, find your hostess, and speak to her first. It is very rude to stop to chat with other guests before greeting the lady of the house.”

Ragatha blushed, shrinking in her seat like a scolded child. “Ma’am...”

“Hmph. As appalling as your conduct is, I suppose you aren’t completely hopeless. It’s worlds better, at least, than that infantile rabbitoid or that foul-mouthed modern-art abomination.” The haughty ghost shook her head. “But I digress — what business do you mortal wretches have in the decrepit domain of I, the great Margarethe MacGuffin?”

A long, drawn-out pause ensued — longer than usual. “Um…” Ragatha rapped on her chin, “…Who?”

“Who? What do you mean ‘who’?”

“Come to think of it, I’ve completely forgotten what we’re even supposed to be doing here. Pomni…?”

Groggily, Pomni lifted her head; more than a few candy corns came along, sticking stubbornly to her cheeks, chin, and forehead. “Brooch,” she sighed. A single morsel tumbled off her face, “We’re looking for the—”  

“Brooch, you say?!” Margarethe flinched at the word like a trained dog hearing its name. Her sour mood shifted in an instant. “You couldn’t possibly mean…” she drew closer, “...that brooch, could you? The legendary MacGuffin family heirloom? The priceless treasure forged in the highlands beyond Hadrian’s Wall, passed down from generation to generation—”

“Uh-huh! Sounds about right!” Pomni abruptly pushed her chair out, sending an avalanche of candy treats pittering and pattering across the hardwood floor. She wasted no time racing to Ragatha’s side — and gently, so gently, hooking her arm around the dolly’s. “So where do we go? What do we do? How do we leave!?” 

“I…” Margarethe balked. “Sit back down this instant, young lady!”

“Uh, hello?! Do you not see that my friend is practically in pieces, here? We don’t need your stupid theatrics — none of this is even real, anyway — just spit it out so we can go back to the tent and get her fixed!”

Margarethe’s posture was as sharp as a tack. “For shame! Never in my sixty-seven years have I witnessed such uncharismatic, uncouth, unbecoming behavior from a young bachelorette. Simply appalling —  you’ll never find a husband with that attitude.”

“Aw, really? You mean it?”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“HAHAHA!” Ragatha slapped the table, “G-Golly, Ms. MacGuffin! This glassware is just to die for! Wherever did you procure such a stunning collection?”

Margarethe hesitated — but then curtsied in appreciation. “Well! I’m glad you noticed. They’re just wonderful, aren’t they?” she proudly mused, “The help says they’re made of this newfangled, petroleum-based material that’s cheaper than glass and impervious to breakage. Bakelite, I believe it’s called — the material of a thousand uses!”

Pomni flicked the nearest goblet. She whispered in Ragatha’s ear: “I think they’re plastic.”

“Indeed — we are truly blessed to be reaping the plentiful fruits of the industrial age. Now, where was I…?” Margarethe tapped her bottom lip, “Ah, yes!”

Margarethe launched herself in the air with a flamboyant pirouette. “To make a long story short, the MacGuffin clan is, sadly, no more — our treasured brooch is the only artifact that remains of our storied legacy. My life is long behind me, but alas, as the matriarch of my kin, I cannot pass on into the next life until I find a soul brave enough to carry on the great MacGuffin legacy. Someone like…you two!”

Pomni and Ragatha looked at each other. “Us? You’re sure?”

“Certainly! But a MacGuffin knows no weakness.” Margarethe continued, “In order to secure my brooch, and carry on my proud family name, you must venture through my audacious abode…and confront your greatest fear!”

“Greatest fear…?” Pomni stammered. 

Margarethe flexed. “Then, and only then, can you consider yourself a true MacGuffin!”

“G-G-Greatest…” Pomni repeated, almost choking on her words, “...f-fear…?” 

“Why, of course, darling! You didn’t expect this to be a walk in the park, did you? It wouldn’t be much of an adventure without a little bit of challenge!”

Pomni stared straight ahead — but her pin-sized pupils didn’t perceive a single thing. 

Greatest fear.

The room shrank. 

Greatest fear. Greatest fear? What in the world was that supposed to mean!? Pomni didn’t have a greatest fear — as far as she knew, the obsessive thoughts that constantly terrorized her mind did so with total parity. How was she supposed to know which one had cost her the most sleep over the years?

Car crashes, plane wrecks, train derailments, high-speed transportation in general, being bitten by a wild animal and dying of rabies, stepping on a rusty nail and dying of tetanus, contracting some other horrible disease after forgetting to wash her hands and dying from that, being stalked by weird men, being assaulted by weird men, being kidnapped and murdered by weird men, weird men in general, disappointing her friends, disappointing her parents, disappointing her boss, people in general, her boss in general, being late to work, performing poorly at work, being fired from work…

Pomni’s eyes bulged. 

Work — oh, no. Work. WORK. 

Pomni’s mind had already overloaded itself merely accepting the notion that she was trapped forever in this weird, obscure computer game — so overloaded, in fact, that the horrific question of how the world was proceeding without her hadn’t even occurred to her.

Until now. 

How long had she been gone? One week? Two? Even more? Her blood ran cold at the realization — even if she were to escape the circus this very instant, there was no way she hadn’t already been fired, no way her cubicle wasn’t already cleaned out to make way for the next poor sap to apply to that god-forsaken office. 

Oh, no. No, no, no, no. That couldn’t happen. What was she going to do? Beg for her old job back? Apply for a new one? How the hell was she supposed to do that when her degree sucked, her resume could fit on a sticky note, and all her single reference could forward a potential employer was years and years of middling performance reviews?

Even if her boss was merciful, her rat bastard of a landlord wouldn’t lend her a single shred of sympathy. Not in a million years. The clock was ticking for Pomni to locate an exit before next month’s rent was due. Should she fail, and she certainly would, she’d return home to find someone else living in her apartment. Her space. The only place in the whole entire world where she felt safe. 

Her belongings would be auctioned off at best, and thrown away at worst. 

And…oh, God. She was a missing person. There were probably posters all over town. Posters plastered with her face and name, front-and center. Stapled to telephone poles, printed in the paper, pinned to those little bulletin boards at the supermarket. Everywhere. Millions of eyes, looking at her face. Reading her name.  

Pomni could already feel them burrowing into her back. Judging her. Pitying her. Laughing at her. The best thing they could do was look away in apathy. 

Her friends and family were probably searching high and low  — but their resolve would dull as the months paged over into years. Embers of hope, pining for her return, would still burn in their hearts until the very end, but it wouldn’t matter in the long run. In the back of their minds, they would know she wasn’t coming home.

The few friends she had, unwilling to carry the burden of their grief, would almost certainly make an effort to forget her. Just to ease the pain. Her voice would be forgotten as old videos and voicemails were deleted. Her face would be next. And then, one by one, each of her friends would speak her name for the final time. 

Pomni whimpered, burying her face in the soft fabric of Ragatha’s arm. Her chest was tight, pressing harder, harder, harder against a hollow core. Each heaving breath sent shockwaves of pain throughout her shrinking, shivering, pitiful body. 

Time. She was running out. Running out of time. She had to find a way out. A way out. A way to get home. Home. Home. Home. Time. Running out. Get out. She had to get out. Get out get out get out GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT RIGHT NOW BEFORE EVERYTHING SHE’S WORKED FOR CRUMBLES TO DUST AND SHE’S DEAD AND FORGOTTEN AND AND AND AND AND AND—

Pomni choked back a scream as a dreadfully-familiar, searing pain stabbed the tips of her fingers. Blackened flesh creeped like cancer toward her palm, each heinous step piercing her skin like a thousand poison needles. 

“R-Ragatha!” Pomni gasped. Abstraction shackled her wrists as the tips of her fingers sank into the ragdoll’s downy flesh. One, three, five, ten twitching eyes sprouted beneath her gloves. “No…no, no, no! I’m going to—!” She couldn’t bear to say it. “I…I need to—”

Ragatha turned. “P-Pomni? What are you—”

“I’m sorry!” Pomni strangled the ragdoll’s wounded arm, squeezing the bulky limb hard enough to force clumps of cotton out of her own failed stitchwork. 

Her eyes squeezed shut. 

Her breathing slowed. 

Shaky breath in, shakier breath out. 

In and out. 

In, and…

The grandfather clock announced the hour with a half-dozen chimes. Pomni cracked open a single eye. Like magic, her mind was calm and clear.

Her weary gaze swept over Ragatha’s shredded arms, over her shoulder, her neck, her furrowed brow, her gnashing teeth, her wincing eyes.

“P-P-Pomni! I said let go!” Ragatha’s complaints finally fell on Pomni’s ears, “That hurts!”

Flinching, Pomni released the doll’s arm, “Ah! I’m sorry! I-I—”

“What’s gotten into you?! Is everything okay!?”

“Y-Yes! Everything’s just fine! I just, uh…” Pomni slumped over, still gasping for air. “Um…” she shrank beneath the shadow of Ragatha’s stern gaze, “...just needed a hug?”

Ragatha’s stony face didn’t crack. “You’re hiding something.”

“What?! No, I’m not!” 

“Don’t lie to me! What’s going on?! It looked like you were just about to—”

Margarethe hissed. “Alright, alright! That’s quite enough chatter!” She clonked Pomni’s head with her hefty book. “In case you forgot, I was in the middle of explaining—”

“HEY!” Pomni barked like a dog, rubbing the back of her head. “Who the #@$% do you think you are, you ancient &!$#% !?”

“Heel.” Margarethe’s razor teeth flashed a ravenous smile, “...If you know what’s good for you.”

Pomni growled — but wisely kept her big mouth shut. It helped that a small part of her was thankful for the excuse to drop the subject with Ragatha. 

Margarethe chuckled. Referring to her book once more, she flipped to a specific page and began chanting a hex under her breath. Before either Pomni or Ragatha could ask what was happening, a pair of blindingly-bright orbs had already emerged from both of their chests. The magical objects drifted toward MacGuffin’s outstretched hand. 

“Now. Let’s begin with the darling coquette. What are her nightmares made of?” Mararethe peered down at the two white spheres orbiting each other in her open palm. Studying one for a moment, she cocked her head with a sneer. “Hmph. Typical.”

Ragatha slouched, looking sullen. 

“Centipedes. It’s centipedes, right?” Pomni leaned on Ragatha’s chair. She had only just walked herself back from the verge of tears, but she had made a promise to protect Ragatha, and she intended to keep it. “Don’t worry — you’ve got me by your side, remember?” She spoke through a confident facade, “I-I’ll squash ‘em for you!” 

Ragatha covered her mouth like she was about to vomit. “Ugh, Please—” she shook her head, “D-Don’t make me think about their guts...” 

Margarethe flicked Ragatha’s orb back into the ragdoll’s chest, leaving only Pomni’s circling her palm. She cleared her throat. “As for the untrained whelp…” she was already laughing as she lifted her long-fingered hand to her face — but the moment she gazed into the orb, her smug affect faltered. 

The phantom’s cold, soulless eyes ping-ponged between Pomni and Ragatha. “Well.” Grinning, she flicked Pomni’s orb away, “Isn’t that sweet? I wouldn’t have taken you for the type, darling.”

Pomni jerked her head. “Huh? What type? What do you mean sweet?!”

Mararethe’s face simply radiated superiority. “I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see, now won’t you?” She mocked, fanning herself. “Oh, shame on me! I haven’t been this worked up since the summer of nineteen-aught-five. This is going to be fun…”

Pomni’s knees locked together as the ghost faded away. “Wait! Where are you going?! What’s my fear?! What—”

“Best of luck!” The candles flickered to the rhythm of Margarethe’s cackling laugh. “You’ll need it…!”

With minimal fanfare, the door to the next room swung open all by itself, creaking horribly on its rusted hinges. 

🎪  🎪  🎪 

Margarethe MacGuffin’s maniacal mansion was truly massive, and, within the last few hours, Pomni and Ragatha had been treated to a terrible tour of every last nightmarish nook and creepy cranny. Just as Caine had advertised, an assortment of ‘tricky traps’, ‘perplexing puzzles’ and ‘supernatural sentries’ had been set up for them to navigate, ranging in difficulty from ‘mind-numbingly easy’, to ‘psychologically traumatizing.’ 

Surprisingly, Pomni’s accounting skills had come in handy in the manor’s ‘money-counting room’. The horrifying puzzle, involving the petty minutiae of tax codes and estate settlements, was easy pickings for the seasoned number cruncher. Still, no one was perfect, and Pomni’s sole mistake — in which she’d forgotten the purpose of box 12D on form 5E-344-B  —  left her at the mercy of a swarm of greenbacks-turned-paper-cranes. 

In the music room, Ragatha would have taken the opportunity to show off her cello skills, but Pomni, concerned that Ragatha would worsen her injuries in the process, had flatly refused. A small back-and-forth had ensued — but in the end, both parties agreed to disagree once the instruments, magically stirred to life, started to viciously attack. Poor Pomni had never sprinted so quickly in her life. 

The place where Ragatha’s expertise did come in handy, however, was the stables. A pack of raging horse skeletons ran rampant, threatening to trample anyone foolish enough to stand in their way. Ragatha’s prior experience with equines, however, gave her all the tricks she needed to quickly soothe the wild herd. In retrospect, the room’s main obstacle wasn’t even calming the horses — it was reassuring a shivering Pomni after the jester had learned first-hand what a horse’s skull looked like. It wasn’t pretty.

In all of that time, not once had either of their so-called ‘greatest fears’ reared their ugly heads — or even so much as teased them. Every single task, no matter how asinine, was turned terrifying by the prospect of transforming into an unimaginable nightmare at any point in time.

The sheer anticipation was a torture all of its own — but the girls’ latest assignment, apparently designed to drive them straight to the precipice of insanity, was a close second place.

“Ohoho, don’t fret! It’s quite simple!” Margarethe had announced shortly after Pomni and Ragatha had arrived at the spacious ballroom. The phantom hadn’t even tried to hold back her laughter — she truly was having the time of her life. “The door to the next room is just a hop, skip and a jump away. All you have to do, honored guests, is locate the key.”

In a snap, Margarethe was gone, and Pomni and Ragatha had looked at each other with dread in their eyes. Nothing in MacGuffin Mansion was ever that simple. 

Every part of the ballroom was sculpted with painstaking precision. The moon peered in through a series of extravagant French windows; long, velvet drapes, slightly darker in color than Ragatha’s licorice locks, spanned the length of each one. The checkered marble that spanned the floor hosted a spattering of perfectly-set tables; a crystal glass and a set of unsoiled silverware framed each empty plate. 

A mountain of keys — brass, silver, and gold — sat upon each plate, sparkling in the moonlight. The drinking glasses beside them were similarly filled to the brim…with keys. Keys, keys, keys. Keys were floating in the flower vases, floating in the wine bottles, floating in the air.

Finding a key would be a cinch — finding the key, however, was a task tedious enough to make Sisyphus himself blush. 

And so, there Pomni was, kneeling in front of the locked door, sunken eyes looking like they hadn’t had a wink of sleep in years. The young woman glanced down with a harsh sigh — the marble floor wasn’t exactly the softest surface, and her knees were starting to hurt. A lot. 

Head drooping low, she half-heartedly held out her hand. “Next…”

Ragatha, slumped against the peeling floral wallpaper, perfectly matched Pomni’s energy. Without even bothering to look, she stuck her hand into one of the myriad piles of untested keys that surrounded the pair. A moment later, she plopped a plain-looking one into Pomni’s palm.

The jester ran her finger across the dented brass surface of what must have been the thousandth key to pass through her hands in under an hour. Her eye twitched. 

This was the one. Their ticket out of this god damned ballroom. It had to be. She had no rhyme or reason to explain why — she just knew.  

With a curt nod, Pomni crammed the key’s metal teeth into the lock and turned her hand clockwise. She leaned forward just a touch, listening desperately for a ‘click’ — but of course, just like the nine-hundred and ninety-nine attempts that came before, the stubborn door simply refused to accept her offering. 

So Pomni stared. And smiled. 

Slowly and silently, she stood, squirming grin blooming into a wide, razor-toothed smile. She turned to face the nearest pile of keys, filled her chest with a patient, hearty breath…

…and drove her foot into the metallic mound with all the force her skinny little legs could muster. 

“Pomni!” Ragatha shouted. Hundreds of keys clinked and clanked as they skated across the marble floor. “Really?!”

“This is it, isn’t it?! My greatest fear?!” Pomni shouted, “Isn’t it!?”

“Pomni!”

“Trapped with no way out, taunted by an exit just out of reach, forced to perform pointess, tedious tasks until I go insane?!” 

With every word that Pomni spoke, Ragatha’s furrowed brow disappeared to make room for a look of grave concern. “Hey! Are you listening to me?!”

“The same thing, over and over, never changing…” Clutching her head, Pomni let out a laugh, strained and dry, “As if I’m not already living that nightmare every single day!?”

“Pomni, stop it! You’re scaring me!” Ragatha finally raised her voice. Acting on instinct, she reached out to touch Pomni’s arm — but the doll’s fragile skin punished her with another gut-wrenching tear. Pain warped the doll’s face as she crumpled forward.

That brought Pomni’s breakdown to a screeching halt. “Ragatha!” snapping herself out of it, the jester immediately scrambled to Ragatha’s side, eyes pleading forgiveness. “I-I’m sorry! I was just… I didn’t mean to—” she clenched her fists, grunting in frustration, “Are you okay!?”

“Are you?!” Ragatha snatched Pomni’s shoulders. Her face was brutally stern. “You are freaking. Me. Out! Tell me what’s going on! Right now!”

Pomni swallowed. She tried to answer — she really, truly tried, yet no words came to her blanking mind.

Ragatha frowned. “Y-You’re doing it. You’re acting just like the others. Just like him.” 

“H-Him…?” 

“Tell me the truth. Back in the dining room, when you were squeezing my arm, did you...” Ragatha’s voice wavered, “Were you…?”

Pomni’s pupils were the size of pins. Buried memories — of her bedroom, of the forest, of the mansion’s dining room — swarmed like locusts through her mind. She could practically feel the blood freezing over in her veins again, feel the despair grabbing hold, feel her whole body rebelling against her, transforming against her will into a mindless, violent beast. 

“...abstracting?” Pomni tore away, arms coiled tightly around herself. Her strong voice was stuffy and rigid, “I-Is that what you’re too scared to say?”

Ragatha’s eyes softened in an instant. “Oh, no. No, no, no! I didn’t mean to—” she winced, holding her arms out as far as they would go. She was this close to tearing open another wound. “Just…come here.”

“Wh…What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Ragatha said, “Come on. Let me hold you...”

Pomni looked the other way, still hugging herself. She tried her best to look disgusted, to pretend to be angry, to act indifferent. “P-Put your arms down. You’ll hurt yourself…!”

“I don’t care.” Ragatha’s wavering smile held true, bending just slightly under the weight of her pain. “It hurts so much more to watch you cry, Pomni.”

“I’m not crying!” Pomni’s voice cracked, widening gaze sweeping across Ragatha’s arms. Her trembling arms weren’t helping her case. “I’m just…”

“...Just what, Sunshine?”

Sunshine. Pomni’s eyes were wet. She blinked away the unwanted sensation, shaking her head all the while — but it was no use. Ragatha really was the nicest person she’d ever met. “...R-Ragatha?” 

“Yes…?”

“Why do you keep calling me that…?”

“Calling you what?”

��Sunshine…” Pomni’s lip quivered. She tried with all of her might to quell the storm, but there was little she could do now. A pair of shimmering streams traced the length of her face, and at long last, she cracked, collapsing into Ragatha’s open embrace. 

“Oh, dear…” Ragatha wrapped Pomni up as tight as she could, squeezing the little jester like she would never, ever let go. Even she was trembling now. “Do you like that name?” 

Pomni nodded. 

She felt a lot of feelings. But most of all, she felt loved. So very, very loved. 

🎪  🎪  🎪 

The ballroom had nary a clock to announce the hour, and the eternal night gleaming through the windows wasn’t much help in telling the time, either. Pomni had no idea how long she’d been venting — just talking, talking, talking through the tears, explaining everything that had happened over the past few days. 

“...and it’s happened three times now.” Pomni spoke softly, at last lifting her head from Ragatha’s chest. However much time had passed, it was enough for her eyes, shocked by the sudden influx of light, to immediately recoil.

She rubbed her eyes, easing them back into the light. “...it just happens. Like a nightmare. My mind starts racing — thinking the same obsessive thoughts, over and over, until the thoughts take control. And I…” Pomni winced, shaking her head. “...w-won’t say anything else.”

Ragatha hummed. She listened quietly, finger tracing winding lines around Pomni’s back. 

“...But every time, I’ve managed to stop it.” Pomni said. She cringed a little at her own words. “Well, I guess that’s obvious...”

“Obvious or not…” Ragatha’s voice was calm and clear, “I’m glad.”

“Glad…?”

“Glad you’re still here.”

“O-Oh!” Pomni perked right up. Almost hypnotized, she stared into those beautiful, mismatched eyes. “Um, th-thanks. Me too...” 

Ragatha giggled. “Sorry to interrupt.” she said adoringly, lightly stroking Pomni’s backside. “You were saying?”

Pomni felt light, absentmindedly curling a lock of red yarn hair around her finger. Never before had she felt so heard, felt what it was like to have someone hanging onto her every word. It felt good.  

“I don't know, Ragatha. When I start to abstract, it’s not easy to bring myself back from the brink, but…” she breathed, “...it’s kind of like what you were saying before.”

“Oh?”

“I try to think of a silver lining. Something that makes me feel safe. Something…”

Ragatha’s thumb shooed away the final, thin teardrop drying on Pomni’s cheek. The ragdoll’s hand felt just like a cloud — softer than anything the jester had ever felt before. “Something…” Ragatha mused, finishing the jester’s thought, “...that makes life worth living?” 

“Yeah…” Pomni welcomed a cautious smile, “Something like that.”  

“Ah-ha!”

Pomni flinched. “H-Huh?!” 

“There she is!” Ragatha snatched the jester’s cheesing cheek and gave it a little wiggle. “There’s my funny girl!” 

Pomni tried her hardest to squirm out of Ragatha’s embrace — but the redhead had her decisively pinned. “Ow! S-Stop it!” she protested — but her sunny laughter only encouraged further torment, “That hurts, you jerk!” 

At last, Ragatha relented. “Sorry, Sunshine. Couldn’t resist.”

Pomni’s first instinct was to do the same thing back — to even the score, so Ragatha could see how it felt — but the woman’s words left her melting, all the way down to her soul.

Sunshine. 

She was putty in the ragdoll’s hands. What in the world was happening? What was this fluttery feeling? Why did her face feel hot enough to burn her fingerprints clean off?

“R-Right! In any case!” Pomni pushed herself off, lest she faint a second time. She could hardly believe how quickly her heart was thumping .“Th-thanks for listening and everything, but…” she glanced around in a panic, “...We should probably get back to it, huh?” 

Ragatha didn’t react right away. “...You’re sure?” She surveyed the endless piles of keys that surrounded them — many of which were now scattered about the floor thanks to Pomni’s most recent tantrum. 

“Of course I’m sure! Wh-Why wouldn’t I be?

“Well, it’s awfully sudden. I don’t mind talking a bit more if you need to! Really — I’d watch paint dry as long as you were next to me. Um! Not to say that listening to you is boring…!”

“It’s fine!” Pomni giggled. “Honest.”

“You’re feeling better?”

Pomni nodded.

“You’re sure?” Ragatha squinted. 

“Yes! I’m sure! We can’t keep stopping like this, Ragatha. We’ve got to get you back to Caine, remember?” 

“I…suppose we can get moving again, if that’s what you want.” Ragatha sighed. She glanced sadly at her freshly-vacant arms. “Just do me a favor, won’t you?”

“Yeah?”

“If we get stuck, try to keep your lid on — for me?”

“Y-Yeah. Sorry about that…” Pomni turned, scratching her head. The very moment she caught a glimpse of the piled-up keys, however, her face scrunched up. “This just — this sucks! How did the other members figure this out?!”

“Pomni.” Ragatha groaned. “Breathe.”

“Right. My bad…”

Despite herself, Ragatha still managed to look amused. “Think of it this way, Sweetheart. If the rest of those goofballs can figure this out, then so can we. We just need to put our heads together — think outside of the box.” 

“Outside of the box…” Pomni stepped across the checkered floor, scratching her chin. “Like…maybe what we’re looking for isn’t a literal key?” 

She scanned the ballroom through her pouting gaze. A series of large chandeliers, far grander than the tacky setpiece in her own bedroom, supervised the spacious room from above. On the northern wall was a small stage, complete with chairs, instruments, and music stands for performing musicians. A piano, paired with a small chest, sat at the far end. 

The jester’s mood soured, and not just because of her recent run-in with haunted musical instruments. Keys, keys, keys — what did any of this stuff have to do with keys!? Ragatha desperately needed help, but here she was, stuck in the world’s most contrived escape room. Ugh! Did people in the real world really do this kind of thing for fun? This stupid puzzle—

Suddenly, Pomni perked up. She eyed the piano. 

Piano. Keys. 

Piano! Keys! Of course!

“Ragatha!” Pomni raced to where the other woman was sitting, frantically waving her arms in the air. “Hey, hey!”

“Hm? Did you figure something out?” 

Pomni nodded, smiling broadly. She scooped the ragdoll into her arms, hopped atop the stage, and set her down in one of the chairs arranged neatly across it. All told, she only knocked over three music stands, two metronomes, and one priceless clarinet in the process. 

Pomni turned Ragatha’s chair so that it faced the piano. “Watch this!” she chirped, dashing across the stage. Her fingers pressed down on the piano’s lowest white note, and then the lowest black; the hammered strings within the instrument sang a long, colorful scale as Pomni dragged her digits across all eighty-eight keys. 

Hands clasped in hope, she spun around to check the door — but her face fell when, despite her genius plan, the door remained firmly in place. 

“What? But—” Pomni’s fingers pecked a low Do, a high Re, and the middlemost Mi. “They’re keys! Pianos have keys!” She laid her hands flat on the ivory, and the piano unleashed a dissonant, un-musical scream. “Are you kidding me? How is that not the solution?!”

“No, you’re right!” Ragatha clapped her hands together, “Good thinking, Pomni! You’re definitely onto something!” 

“I…am?” Pomni blushed, “But I already pressed every single key — every one! And that stupid plank of wood still won’t open!”

“Maybe it’s not about pressing one specific key.” Ragatha scratched her chin, “Maybe it’s a special combination. Notes can have letter names —  A, B, C, et cetera — so perhaps they want us to spell a certain word?”

“Ooh! A keyword! That’s good!” Pomni snapped her fingers. She didn’t hesitate to start sniffing out clues for such a solution — and it didn’t take long for the old chest beside the piano to catch her eye. 

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the lock — but, thankfully, it was only for show. Breathing a sigh of relief, Pomni opened the lid. The antique chest was filled to the brim with a series of long, frayed, dust-coated cardboard boxes. 

Curiosity piqued, Pomni opened one and cautiously unfurled the bulky scroll stored inside. A series of small, perfectly-cut holes stretched across the yellowed paper. Some existed in isolation, while others were grouped together into long lines — as if a leaf-munching insect had eaten its way through the fragile material.

Pomni’s tonge prodded the inside of her cheek. “Ragatha? You said you played the…” her gaze flicked aside, “...violin, right?”

“Violoncello.” Ragatha deadpanned. “Why?”

“Well, I was just wondering — since you’re a musician, do you have any clue what these weird rolls of paper are for? They seem related to the piano somehow, but…”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Ragatha gasped, clasping her hands together. “Those funky bundles of paper are called piano rolls!”

The redhead had responded to Pomni’s question in plain English, but the baffled look on the jester’s face suggested otherwise.  

Ragatha clarified. “Back in the day, these were used to play piano tunes without the need for a human performer. Each one plays a different song when loaded into a player piano.”

“Player piano…?”

“Oh, right. Sorry! That’s a special type of piano that plays itself. I’m not quite sure how it works either. But back to the topic at hand — see those little holes cut into the paper? Each one represents one music note. As the roll slowly unfurls, a sensor reads them and tells the machine which keys to strike.”

“Ohh…” Pomni ran her fingers across the parade of perforations that spanned the scroll. Slowly, she nodded. “...So it’s like a music box?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Ragatha beamed. The look on her face as she watched the concept click in Pomni’s head was a painting of pure joy; was it any wonder that she had worked as a teacher prior to her captivity? 

Pomni sighed. She planted an elbow on the old chest and cradled her cheek against her palm. “Your students must have loved you...” 

“Well, I did receive my fair share of apples.” Ragatha shrugged. “Never had to pack a lunch.”

“Wait, seriously…? That’s a real thing?”

“No. Not really.”

A silly smile teased its way onto Pomni’s lips. Heart stumbling, she turned away, fingers unconsciously fiddling with the old chest’s loosened lock. “S-So, um, is there anything else you can tell me…?” 

“Nah — telling is overrated. In my classroom, I always liked to take a hands-on approach.” Ragatha said. She admired the antique instrument seated on the far end of the stage. “There’s a player piano right there. Why don’t you give it a whirl? It’s been a while since I’ve listened to music.”

“S-Sure thing! I’ll find a good one!” Pomni said, eager to please. Just about tearing the lid off of the antique chest, she rifled through its tightly-packed contents with purpose, scrutinizing the faded titles printed on each box. She didn’t recognize a single song, much less any of their long-dead composers, so it was anyone's guess as to what the music would actually sound like. She may as well have just swiped a roll at random — and, as a matter of fact, that’s exactly what she did. 

Pomni set the bulky scroll inside the automatic piano after a bit of clumsy fumbling — and more than a little help from Ragatha. With the flip of a switch, the paper started spinning, and the premier notes of a lofty, leisurely tune stirred to life beneath the ballroom’s vaulted ceiling. 

Pomni’s fingers drew circles on the mechanical piano’s smooth, wood grain exterior. For a moment, she forgot where she was, utterly fascinated by the simple elegance of the century-old contraption. 

It was funny. The long-forgotten piece it played, humbly subtitled ‘a ragtime two-step’, had set her up to expect something more peppy and up-tempo. As the piano roll steadily unfurled, however, the melodic constellations impressed upon the paper sang a far different tune. 

It was the type of jaunty music one would expect to accompany a silent film, just…polished. Refined. All of the musical tropes of the era were present — the driving bassline, the active, syncopated melody — but the piece’s dignified pace and finely-crafted harmonies would have sounded out of place in a rowdy, turn-of-the-century saloon. 

Here in the ballroom, though, it was right at home — at least, that’s what the haunted furniture seemed to think. 

Looking impressed, Pomni tapped her foot, wholly oblivious to the perplexing scene unfolding behind her. “Not bad...” She grinned, turning to face Ragatha, “To tell you the truth, I actually kind of ohmygodwhat’sgoingon—”

Pomni stumbled backwards, then forwards, then backwards again into Ragatha’s chair. The ballroom’s inanimate denizens — the one-hundred-odd tables and chairs scattered across its marble floor —  moved all on their own, dancing in time with the mellow melody. A backing band of squeaking wood and clinking keys added a percussive flair to the player piano’s charming, just-slightly-detuned sound. 

Ragatha, for her part, was busy cracking up at Pomni’s complete and utter bewilderment. With a quick breath, she managed to compose herself. “Well, when in Rome…” The ghost of a giggle still lingered in her tone as she offered up her hand, “Shall we?”

Pomni let out a mousy squeak. “Huh?” She flinched, head feeling light, dots flitting across her vision, “But—”

“Come on. Don’t make me beg.” Ragatha batted her eyes, “It’s unladylike.”

Pomni blushed. Without a word, she swallowed, shuddering like a frightened animal as she reached for Ragatha’s hand.

Her fingers curled snugly around the ragdoll’s, plush and doughy. Both women’s palms — one big, one small — fit together perfectly.

Pomni slid her other arm behind Ragatha’s back, powerless to stop the nervous little whimpers sneaking out of her as she lifted up the lightweight woman. For a moment, their faces were close enough to feel each other’s warmth — and it took every ounce of restraint Pomni had to resist asking: ‘Can I please kiss you?’.

With a brief, peppy fanfare, the music transitioned to a new section; the enchanted furniture, as if controlled by a single mind, adapted its routine in perfect sync. 

“I, um…” Pomni’s knees trembled. This stupid furniture was making her look bad. “I don’t really know how to dance…” She winced at the thought, and then at the sight of Ragatha’s grave injuries, “And even if I did, how are we supposed to—”

“Shh.” Ragatha’s thumb glided across the back of Pomni’s hand. “Just…hold me.”

Pomni exhaled. 

Holding her dolly close, the jester closed her eyes, synchronizing her trembling breaths with every other downbeat. Her foot matched the two-step’s gentle pulse, and before she knew it, her whole body was swaying to the rhythm.

Ragatha nestled her head against Pomni’s chest; a blissful sigh escaped her shuddering smile. The tension in her body dissipated note-by-note, phrase-by-phrase, as her darling rocked her back and forth, here and there, to and fro. 

Back and forth they went. Pomni held her plain little ragdolly as tight as she could, finger tracing zig-zags across the curves of her fleece-soft figure. She adored the sound of her peaceful breathing, the way her hands cradled each other as she lay in her arms, all of her happy little fidgets as her body responded to the music. 

Here and there they swayed. Pomni’s desperate eyes wandered to Ragatha’s lips, plush and glossy. Her heart was glowing, but just beyond, a profound emptiness, like nothing she had ever felt before, opened up within her. It begged to be filled, and pained her to resist.

Swing, swing. To and fro. Ragatha was weightless in her arms. The whole wide world, and everything in it, was wonderful. Just wonderful. 

“Ragatha…?”

“Hm.” It took Ragatha a moment to respond. She jostled herself as if she’d just been woken from a deep, restful slumber. “What is it, Sunshine?” She said, keeping her eyes closed. 

Pomni swallowed a shuddering breath. “Do you remember the day before yesterday? When we were trying to film the new intro?”

“That was quite a day.” Ragatha cracked a smile. She nestled herself closer, basking in the rhythm of each gentle sway.  “I didn’t know you could scream so loud. Zooble, either.”

“Yeah…” Pomni tittered. “When you were showing me the way to my room, I remember feeling so exhausted, so frustrated. I didn’t understand why all of this was happening to me. What I did wrong to end up trapped here. I was taking it out on everyone, including you. But…”

“But…?”

“But you were still kind to me.”

Ragatha giggled. “Oh, come on. Don’t give me too much credit. You might hate to hear this, but you’re awfully cute when you get all worked up. If I’m being honest, the hardest part was not eating you up.”

“Cute...” Pomni felt butterflies. Her rocking slowed down, falling out of sync with the beat of the music. “That’s what you said about my hat hair. Remember?”

“I do! And I stand by it.”

The social contract of conversation required Pomni to respond with a laugh, or a ‘that’s funny’, or even a small, near-imperceptible exhale of breath — but instead, she simply stood there, thinking, utterly silent. And when she did get around to opening her mouth at last, her voice took on a noticeably different tone. 

“R-Ragatha…?” 

“Yes?” Ragatha’s mouth curled slightly — and not in the good direction. “Is everything alright? You sound like you have a frog in your throat.”

“Do you—” Pomni swallowed, “D-Do you remember what we talked about before? About…” she took in a shaky breath, “...something to live for…?”

Ragatha’s eyes flashed open with a jolt. The doll palmed the wet spot on her cheek, and flinched again when another droplet pelted her face. “P-Pomni! Are you—” she stammered, “Why are you crying?!”

“Because…!” Pomni’s face crinkled up, “B-Because, if you hadn’t said that…” she gulped down a long, shaky breath, “...if you had listened to me that day, if you had just left alone like I said…”

“Pomni…?”

The young woman’s tear-studded chin curled inward, coming to rest against her heaving chest. “... If it wasn’t for you, Ragatha, I don’t know if I would still be here…”

The old piano roll reached its end with no pomp or circumstance; the haunted furniture took a final bow, shuffling back to their places as the two-steps’s final chord faded away. 

A century of stillness stretched between the jester and the ragdoll. 

Ragatha pressed her hand to her lips. Pomni couldn’t blame her for her silence. What could Ragatha possibly say? Pomni didn’t know, and, given Ragatha’s flat, stunned gaze, it seemed the ragdoll was equally lost. 

“R-Ragatha…? I don’t know how else to say this…” Pomni’s whole body felt twice as heavy. Her body was a paradox, sweltering beneath overwhelming heat and flinching away from wisps of unbearable cold. “I think I, u-um—” 

Enough was enough. At long last, the two hearts spoke as one, crackling voices intertwined in an impromptu duet. 

“I’m sorry, but…!” the jester squeaked.

“That’s it!” the ragdoll gasped, “I can’t take this anymore — I’m just going to say it!” 

Together, they forced out the exact same words: “Can I please just kiss you?!”

…And time slowed to a crawl. 

Each woman was the other’s reflection, looking back from the other side of the proverbial water. Ragatha stared, at a loss for words, gawking mouth twisting into a little half-smile. Pomni stared back, eyes aglow, wearing the world’s dumbest grin without a care in the world. 

Smiles became snorts, snorts turned into giggles, and giggles bloomed into fits of gut-busting laughter. Pomni’s tears flowed still, but their wet, winding trails framed a face brightened by hope. “Did that just happen?!”

Ragatha giggled, pawing at her face. If she felt any pain — and she certainly did — it didn’t show. “Well?” she remarked at last, “I’m waiting.”

“Um…!” Pomni frantically nodded. “Right! O-Of course!” A bead of sweat traveled down her brow as relief gave way to worry.

She hadn’t the slightest idea of what she was doing. 

Pomni’s stance bent backward at a curious angle. Ignoring the added strain on her back, she swallowed, tilted her face closer to Ragatha’s, and then…locked up. For what felt like an eternity, she just stood there, knees chattering, staring into Ragatha’s eyes with a vacant, absolutely petrified expression.

“...Uh, Pomni?” Ragatha blinked. The moment was ruined. It was horribly, terribly, soul-crushingly awkward. “What are you doing?”

“K-Kissing you! Obviously!” Pomni shifted around, forcing a shuddering smile. “I’m just, um, y-you see—” 

“Is this how you usually do it?”

“Um, no. Not really…!” a beet-red Pomni shook her head, “To tell you the truth, I’ve never really, um…” her voice shriveled further with every word, “...I’ve haven’t exactly done this before…”

“Pomni!”

“Wh-What?! Is that bad?!”

“Goodness gracious. What am I going to do with you?” Ragatha playfully rolled her eyes. “Well, you already lifted me up. That’s a…start? I suppose? Look, just tilt your head for me.”

“Oh! Sure!” Pomni did — with gusto. “Is this good?”

“No! Not that much!”

Pomni let out a soft little whine. “O-Okay! Sorry!” 

“There. That’s better.” Ragatha’s yearning gaze closed the distance, “Next, close your eyes...”

“Like this?”

“Well, yes — there’s only one way to do it.” 

“Oh! Right…”

“God, you’re cute...” Ragatha filled her chest with a long, savoring breath, “...Now hurry up and kiss me.”

Pomni’s pounding heart was due to give out any second now. This couldn’t be real. Was this really happening? What had she gotten herself into!?

Slowly but surely, she moved her lips closer, closer, closer, until she could feel the warmth of Ragatha’s hushed breaths on her face. Her stomach twisted into a tighter knot with every burst of humid heat — but she’d come too far to quit now.

Carefully, very carefully, she—

“Ugh! Fine, then — I’ll do it!” Huffing just like a princess, Ragatha seized Pomni’s tunic, pulled her in, and pressed her lips against hers. She shuddered, squealing with joy as their souls linked at last. 

Pomni’s eyes were wide, her belly flat, her face a bluish hue as every last gasp of air was suddenly forced out of her chest. Sharply, she breathed in again, and a familiar scent stirred her heart like a siren song:

Strawberries and soil and fresh-fallen rain.

My Ko-fi - Tips are very much appreciated! :)

[First Chapter] [Next Chapter]

[derschleierfallt]

she’s here… little review under the cut. will hopefully get this scanned very soon🤞

this manga is a tie in for and based off of the 1996 takarazuka revue production of elisabeth. it is entirely in japanese (ofc), no translated version exists, so this is based off of what i can infer from the artwork and what i already know of the musical/history.

the artwork is a bit of a mixed bag, in my opinion. i thought the colored illustrations were beautiful, i really love the soft color palettes, and the coloring itself reminded me a lot of watercolor. the rest of the artwork isn’t the best? granted, this is just a tie-in, so it’s likely there might’ve not been time to polish things up. lots of panels look pretty unrefined, with little detail and off-model characters. that said, there are plenty of panels that look fantastic. overall, i enjoy this artists style, but the apparent lack of polish can bog it down.

the story is… mostly incomprehensible? this is of course almost entirely due to the language barrier, but from what i can tell, the story itself doesn’t appear to follow elisabeth (das musical) much at all. there’s some of the main elements in the zuka prod, such as tod in a more cut-and-dry romantic interest role (more on that later). however, some important aspects appear to be gone entirely. lucheni isn’t present as a narrator nor as an assassin, and the concept of the world of the dead doesn’t exist, at least not in the same way. the surreal elements of elisabeth aren’t here, and the tone of the manga reminds me more of the sissi movies if you dropped tod in there for funsies.

some things i took note of:

-mary vetsera is an actual character, and rudolfs murder-suicide is presented a little more accurately to real life (very romanticized though), assuming a beautiful blonde man didn’t actually kiss him to death (the event is a mystery after all!)

-the ending is kind of…?!?! like i mentioned, lucheni isn’t here, so based off of art alone, i have an of what’s MAYBE happening:

elisabeth immediately kills herself after rudolf dies, kiss of death at his coffin. tod takes elisabeth’s lifeless body to franz, probably says something like “na na na na boo boo she’s wants me and not you”, and then jumps out the window. final panel is tod sitting on top of a building, looking out onto the world alone

so i really enjoyed that ending if im inferring correctly LMFAO

-tod is kind of not here a lot, which is unexpected for a takarazuka tie in

-some iconic scenes aren’t really adapted at all, der letzte tanz does not happen which i NOTICED

you can take pretty much all of this with a grain of salt. as i’ve mentioned, i dont know ANY japanese whatsoever. it’s very possible a lot of the stuff i’ve mentioned is conveyed through text and not pictures. additionally, theater and comics are SUPER different mediums, and i think keeping elisabeth fully intact transferred to another medium is basically impossible. but from what i can see and what i can guess, this isn’t exactly the most faithful of adaptations. it lacks any of the gothic and aforementioned surreal elements of the musical, zuka prod or otherwise! it’s a cute tie in, and it’ll look great being displayed, but it’s not anything amazing (not that i necessarily expected much)! still super happy i got it though, and super excited to share it soon :)

also, the bad reviews id seen of this mostly had to do with elisabeth apparently not being drawn cute enough. i think those reviews are wrong

[cyclament]

Kill la Kill | Nui Harime

Feb 29 2021 - Mar 12 2021

.kra notes:

Krita 4.4.2

Lighting, colour palette, foreshortening

Stupid hair

Soft shading - cell shading erased w airbrush

so many clipping layers + groups

supposed to be moonlit. doesn't really read that well

^^(could've gone for a more downwards red/orange lighting 4 the fire)

took overall less time than the mako (i think)

mako - getting used to krita and digital art in general

nui - further experimenting

bg "thing" and signature taken from mako

more practice on lighting for metal (scissors)

^copied the way it's done in the anime

The scissors are p inconsistently drawn in the anime so not v accurate here

bg trees - "fuck" textured brush #1

4 ref images

insta notes:

played w soft shading. didnt plan on it but the light is sppsd to be from the moon so it was me tryna make it read better

did nui from the flashback cos I like the color palette n why not

I have problems w this drawing being too busy, so I might leave it alone 4 a while n fix it later. details r getting lost - not enough contrast.

p happy w it. kinda on the fence tho

"kill father owo.kra"

[upn-the-sky]

Give me God of War!! (Ares OOAK, Part 2)

Just a reminder that there was Part 1 of this madness.

OKAY

I wanted to wait until I finish sword and spider legs before making a post, but there are three days after finishing the whole armor and I can't wait, I am screaming about Ares's supremacy.

Now I can say, it was hard. And the most hard thing was finding a balance. There are differences between Ares's 3D models from the different years, even in color palette. And I wanted to be as much close to the first game design as it possible. Some features were fully recreated from GOW1, some others I found more good at latest model from GOW3 and reworked them according to it. So at the end we have a good symbiosis I think.

Now let's a take a bow and look a bit closer at the mess under the cut.

Preparatory process

Until eyes are frightened, you can't do anything. To be honest I had no idea from where to start, the plan sounded like a "How to draw an owl" tutorial. Complexity of his armor scared me as hell, and after spending some time with drawings, where I tried to figure out a hook and loop system, which should attach parts to each other, I gave up and started to make his scaly iron belt, it felt more easier. YEAH.

Iron belt

You can see it at the screenshot. Well, one of the versions. Seems, it has no purpose beside decorative, I mean, maybe it can protect the groin, but eh, not really, honestly. At GOW3 model of dead Ares it became more detailed with round flower-like pendants and a little green jewel drops, but also it became golden as all metallic elements. I decided to make everything silver, but anyway, belt is very beautiful and I headcanon it is the same belt, which Ares gifted to his daughter Hippolyte in the past.

I weaponised myself with the smallest crochet hook and red thread and started to knit. WHY KNIT YOU ASK?? I don't know, it is easier for me than sewing all these scales %) Maybe they represents some fishy motives? (His connection with Aphrodite). Or serpent? (One of Ares's children, who was killed by Kadmus). Maybe green jewels is a hint to his mother Hera, because she loves emeralds. Who knows.

Scales, flowers, suns, glass drops.. If I were Ares, I'd present it to my beloved warrior daughter too.

Pteruges

As an example of the true manliness, Ares wears a skirt of course. He is not a barbarian, who hides his beautiful freckled thighs in the pants! How dare we to judge..

The easy part was to make a leather stripes and pierce them with the rivets (little nails, which I cut after this to left a head only). The hard part (which I had a chance to feel over and over again) was to figure out how to attach it to the body and hide all of the fasteners, and how to let stripes flow on his thighs and how the hell it should cover his.. godlike butt, I can't believe I wrote this.. %)

ANYWAY, A MONTH LATER I decided to make it a single piece with the iron belt, by creating a two-part wide leather base, attach knitted waistband to it, then join the each stripe to the separate piece of cloth to make them movable, then attach this cloth to the leather and sew some hooks. Aaaand the final result!

Cuirasse

I just say I literally hanged up myself with it. Here will be ranting...

Let's just think that it is not enough just to recreate appearence. In making 3D you can ignore some aspects like hidden straps and strings, which keeps armor conjoint on the human body. But how to make it wearable to the doll body, which is not soft and has a stable reliefs? How to make armor firm and shaped, but not completely firm, so it can be taken off from the body? Yes, my wish from the beginning was to make whole armor with a possibility to take it off and send nudes dress Ares in different outfit, which i will also make someday. How to make it light, so the doll can stand by itself? How to make it textured, to make it looks rough, to imitate metal or at least used condition? How to make metal parts without using a metal?

OKAY, WE NEED TO BE CANON - I thought and it was a day I decided to not invent armor, but use an experience of the hellenic people, who was smarter than me, I guesse. Because long time ago these people invented Linothorax - composite armor made of laminated linen fabric. ____

First of all, I splited Ares's cuirass to the segments: chest+collar segment, belly segment, spine segment, which emphasizes Ares's love to hunching over a little, and a waist-and-lower segment. Plus cuirasse has chained shoulder straps and side straps.

Well, when you have all elements, it is easier to imagine a complete piece. After that you just buy fabric, glue, chains, 27 hours for your day, new eyes, paint and other stuff. You wrap the body with the film and tape to protect it and start to glue. And here it is time for me to shut up, I know, you are here to watch a process, not to read an essay. I started from the front pieces of course. You imagine a pattern, you cut it, you glue it to hold the natural body forms as close as possible. Collar was formed right here. Gladly we can remove Ares's head when we want to do it...

Waist piece (eheh, spider butt (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) and first attempt to assemble the cuirasse. Here I literally lost my last brain cells and bravery, stopped the process and didn't make straps until the last week.

Anyway A MONTH LATER!!11 after the first assemble I started to sculp a relief of the reinforced chest and the metallic collar. Also we can check how's our decapitated dogs doing. Here you can see a belly piece of the cuirasse, which needed it's own dog decor. I was that meme boy with a knife, yeah..

Seemed they doing great! I felt that and decided to finish arm armor. Shoulder pads and bracers Thankfully making them requires the same process: cut a pattern, glue it, repeat for each arm. Here is close ups of the leather "feathers" pierced by rievets, chained bracers (I am very proud that I recreated it fully like at the Ares model. Bracers has no other strings and stays at arm only because of the chains) and shoulder pads as a base and as a complete, fully Cerbered piece. Actually this part wasn't really difficult, I've just delayed the inevitable.

Boots The first GOW novel says he weared sandals!!! Bloodstained SANDALS! But this novel was written much later, so we are making rocker boots. ᕕ(シ)ᕗ HEY!, we are laughing here, but Ares is smart, Ares don't want to break his toes by kicking someone's helmet! Maybe after having some experience %)))

Well, as I said in my previous posts, his boots was the most agressive part his armor. Heel and shoes toes should be firm, but sole should stay soft. Also the whole construction of the boots should looks monolite with the greavers which cover up the layers of the material above the ankles. Don't forget about the chains and double emotional damage, because there is two legs!

A little more damage as a person you receive, when you understand that you need to process each edge of each piece, because all armor pieces has visible layers. And only after that you can paint everything, draw Ares's assymetrical ornaments and dress him up.

That's how we reach the end. Here he is. O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous men. Kratos's yes-homo partner and his personal most vieceful enemy.

Ares! God of war!

Thank you everyone for your patience while reading this duvet cover. See ya in Part 3, Skeletor will return soon with a sword, spider legs and normal photos. And stay tuned, I will post some portraits next time!

[revisitingfandoms]

Thing I've had

Soooo, Like any with cookei run OC's, I have one.

This my lovely viewers is my half-decently drawn picture of Mirror Moon Cookie. (The uncolored verison.) Hence I feel the need to add a color palette. sort of.

Sorry its so big-

Anyways.

Mirrior Moon Cookie was once one of the many cookies that lived under the glorious days of the five heros, until their fall. She lived to witness their destruction and desolation of the world around her.

As a former discple and student under Shadow Milk cookie, this broke her heart and left a deep scaring betrayal. In the chaos of the ongoing disaster, she prayed to the witches for assitance, she remained ignored by most, yet one answered her.

Between this, the witch crafted and gifted her a seat of chains, 'I cannot trust another with the full power of our might' The witch said, 'You see what happened with the fallen heros' The witch whispered, 'Yet, only one of their power can aid in defeating them'

Gifting the chains to the cookie, allowed her to chain the beasts and pause their rampages yet also changing the cookie once known as Fortune Cookie into Mirrior Moon Cookie.

By accepting the chains her once of yellow crust into a deep black, her tied by brown frosting into pure white and her soft sun yellow eyes into the deepest purple, her once soft scent of flour changing into the wind at night and of sweet moonlight.

Lending her assitance to the witches in sealing the beasts, the chains kept them down long enough for the witches to seal them with the forks. In this act, she was granted an extened lifetime.

The witch who original gifted her the chains spoke to her one last time before they disappeared, 'Go to the wizards' The witch said, 'Find the wizards and gain a new purpose. You linger too much in the past and upon your mentor.' The witch loosened Mirror Moon cookies chains before sending her off.

She would later travel all the way to the city of wizards, she was glazed upon with a unique wonder and questions, but also hestiation. One Wizard asked her, 'Why should we, wizards, allow the cookie creation of a witch to live amoung us?' Mirrior Moon lowered her head, 'Because I have no one else, My mentor is lost, my friends gone and my family in graves. I come here, because I have no where else. I come here seeking a new purpose.'

The wizard hummed, 'Then you shall study under me, for all that wizards and witches argue over which is better or more accurate, I find we all use the same magic. The same can be said for their creations.'

The wizard took in Mirrior Moon cookie as their assitant. She would bond with this wizard and his students- both learning and teaching.

One day the wizard in a empty classroom spoke to her, 'us wizards cannot linger here for long' He said, his eyes saddened, 'and we cannot take you cookies with us,'

She stares at him, 'Why not? I.. I do not wish to left alone again. Take me with you.'

The wizard shook his head, 'I cannot, the archmage forbade it. It would kill you.' She looked down as tears welled, 'So I shall lose both you and our students.'

Wizard picked her and slowly and carefully wipped her tears, 'Oh Mirrior moon cookie' He spoke, 'don't be so sad, this only goodbye for now, I am sure we will meet again one day.'

She nods and with a whispered request speaks, 'May you sing that song, my friend?' The wizard gives a half hearted chuckle and with a nod sings.

'Leaves in the vine, falling so slow..'

He leaves and inside of the city of wizards, in an empty classroom, lingers a cookie. A lost cookie, who lost those who were family thrice over. Atleast until the stars fell from the sky, crushing all the stood before them.

So thoughts on my characters background?

(Also song is 'leaves on the vine' from avatar the last airbender. )

[fostersffff]

The Big Gundam Watch, Part 12: Mobile Suit Gundam F91

Back when I started doing these write-ups, I was pretty certain I was just going to ignore F91. Reading up on it at the time, it was clearly an odd duck: it’s a standalone movie in the Universal Century timeline that takes place 30 years after Char’s Counterattack and 30 years before Victory Gundam, so outside of the manga-only continuation Crossbone Gundam, it didn’t seem worth checking out. But as I and found myself enjoying more and more of the Gundam franchise, I figured I should check it out anyway, especially since the F91 and the Crossbone Gundam are really cool designs.

As it turns out, I really like F91! Unfortunately, this is in spite of some major flaws, mostly stemming from the fact that it feels like a TV series they had to condense into a two hour movie... which it turns out is literally what happened:

So with that put out right at the start, let's get into it:

THE STUFF I LIKED:

I promise I won't start every entry like this, but with the knowledge that this was originally going to be a TV series, I think "the gang" they introduce is perfect. Seabook, Cecily, Seabook's Little Sister, Grumpy Techie, Normal Kid, Team Mom Punk Girl, Seabook's Cowardly Rival, a bunch of kids like the White Base Babies/Shinta and Qum, a literal actual baby- that's a Burger King Kids Club right there, perfectly suited to TV hijinks. Of course, you can't do a lot of goofy, ZZ-esque hijinks in a two hour movie, but they manage to slip some stuff in, and in isolation I thought they were mostly pretty fun.

I'm also really fond of the actual crew of the Space Ark, because they collectively remind me of my favorite version of Bright Noa; people way out of their depth and doing their best with way too much responsibility while being relentless dogged by Federation war hawks who- in a pleasant contrast to War in the Pocket- are maybe the scummiest bastards they've ever been.

With those two things mentioned; I don’t think it’s much of a secret that F91 was almost certainly an attempt at soft-rebooting Gundam. I think it was a noble attempt; unlike Wing, which I regularly derided as “the Universal Century again, but with arbitrary differences”, the differences here feel more considered. For example: Seabook is an amalgamation of Amuro, Kamille, and Judau, Cecily Fairchild is F91’s equivalent of Sayla Mass, but also, she also fulfills the role of a grown-up Mineva Zabi, and the F91 itself is actually pretty special compared to all of its contemporary mobile suits because of Seabook's mom's quirked-up design.

Visually, I really love this movie. I'm not very good at describing visual stuff, so I tend to avoid saying much more than "it's good" or "it's bad", but this movie uses a lot of unusual colors and lighting compared to what came before. Like, I would describe the most commonly reoccurring color in this movie's palette as "periwinkle", and this shot from the first conversation between Cecily and Iron Mask really highlights how important lighting is in this animated feature, which is not something I typically think about when watching animation.

Speaking of: it's crazy to think Unicorn's Riddhe Marcenas was never The Biggest Cuck in Gundam, because Iron Mask has been occupying that position since 1991. Not just literally, but every single word he says and action he takes is just barely not seething. Explicitly mentioning he came to terms with the guy his wife ran off with right before murdering him with psychic powers just to make her sad is peak Cuck Behavior.

Way back in my Hathaway review, I talked about how much I liked the scene of Hathaway and Gigi having to navigate a mobile suit firefight on foot, and for how good that was, F91 actually outdoes that movie. Like, not even 10 minutes in do we get the scene of the baby's mother getting instantly killed by a shell casing, and this is before the fighting starts in earnest.

I pointed this out in a separate post but man do I love the space rescue from Final Fantasy VIII, so finding out that (barring this movie having taken it from something else itself) F91 was the origin of this was a genuinely delightful way to end the movie. Also, even without that comparison, there's is something powerfully romantic about the visual of clinging to your loved one in the endless, uncaring vacuum of space.

THE STUFF I LIKED LESS:

For all the things this movie must have cut, there's an equal number of things it didn't and just rammed in there anyway, like the subplot with Annamarie and Zabine. In a ~50 episode TV series, they could have stretched her growing resentment towards Cecily, defection from the Vanguard, and ultimate clash with Zabine over like 10 episodes, and her death at his hands and his cold dismissal would've had way more impact than it did over the course of 10 minutes.

I mentioned before, Cecily is both a "what if" of an older Mineva Zabi as she appeared in the Zeta/ZZ, which also makes her the blueprint for Mineva Zabi as she actually appears in Unicorn. The flaw here is the Ronah family: unlike the Zabis, who rose to power and infamy with cloak and dagger, the Ronah family just... exists? And they have enough power and resources to form a fighting force as threatening to the firmly entrenched (but arguably stagnant/in-decline) Federation as the Crossbone Vanguard? It'd be easier to handwave if F91 took place, like, 100 years after CCA, but with only 30 years it's just bizarre.

Also not to let Cecily off scot-free, it's very not flattering how easily she fell for the absolute monarchy meme. Like, ok, she's 17 and definitely in over her head, but when Seabook came to rescue her I still don't understand why she was like "no, it's too late, they already convinced me facism is based".

Wiki diving on this subject indicates the Ronah family is basically a new money family that bought an old money name to sound more important, which is delicious, and even sort of ties in with Iron Mask being a Cyber-Newtype, but that's not really present in the movie. Never a good thing when I have to wiki dive to understand something better.

Speaking of this movie only taking place 30 years after CCA: this is not at all the fault of F91, because at the time it was made nothing had else had really been written to have happened aftere Char's Counterattack, but it's very weird to see people who should know better be like "there used to be these people called 'Newtypes', and a special kind of mobile suit called a 'Gundam'".

The Bugs are comically stupid. If I were being charitable, I could chalk this up to Iron Mask being a seething cuck and wanting to be as cruel as possible to the people he's killing, but the idea that self-propelled heat seeking sawblades are a more viable method of mass killing than the gas attacks in Zeta is bananas. (I wrote this right after watching F91, and now that I've had the chance to think back on Zeta- specifically how the first colony we see that got hit with the Titans' gas attack was still uninhabitable years later- I can kind of see the rationale behind the Bugs, but they're still very dumb)

Most of the mech designs in this are pretty great, but I gotta say I'm super disappointed with the Rafflesia. I kept waiting for it to bloom into a dope-ass Qubeley/Kshatriya lookin' thing but it was just the Final Weapon from Mega Man X4.

I mentioned I liked the mobile suit designs, but the Crossbone Vanguard in general is not beating the Star Wars allegations.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS:

I aspire to own the BEAUTIFUL LIFE TOMINO jacket in the way that other guys with different brain problems than me aspire to own the jacket from Drive.

There was a bunch of stuff in this movie I thought was very funny, intentionally or otherwise:

Despite how horrifying the scene gets, the War Museum fight kicking off with the curator announcing/revealing that the name of the museum is "Roy's War Museum" killed me.

Seabook jumping off the maintenance platform and audibly shattering his knees is incredibly fucking funny.

However, Seabook's mom hopping on a moped and immediately eating shit is maybe the single funniest scene in any Gundam media ever.

You're right, random citizen attending the Crossbone Vanguard propaganda rally: beam flags ARE awesome!

This sentence is just a literal observation of what's literally happening in the scene. Like, thinking about it, most attacks on colonies from space in the Universal Century would necessarily come from what would technically be considered "underground" because of how they're designed, but I'll be damned if it doesn't sound poetic. Tomino strikes again!

I've talked about SPEEN before, but it has literally never been SPEEN-ier than F91. Like, here's over a full minute of So Much Fucking Spinning (with the dub audio, where they added in sound effects for everything that's spinning for some reason):

If you don't count the numerous manga follow ups: lol, lmao

IN CONCLUSION:

In an alternate universe where F91 had the chance to be the TV show it was intended to be, I think it would have been successful in trying to soft reboot Gundam. There's a ton of stuff I really like about this, but the execution is lacking because of course it is, and judging it as is without considering hypotheticals, I'd probably put it about on par or just a hair above Char's Counterattack. It has almost the exact same pacing problems I had with that movie, but because it's effectively a clean slate and a single, unconnected, complete narrative, it winds up being a less frustrating watch.

Next up: Mobile Suit Gundam 0083: Stardust Memory! This one is a coin flip, because I don't think I've ever heard a single complementary thing about this outside of Cima Garahau's design and the fact that it's a beautiful 90's anime OVA, but it takes place in a timeframe (smack between 0079 and Zeta) that is just so rich with potential that even if it's bad, it should at the very least be interesting.

[mashihope]

❥ [DKB] Their makeup is done by their crush (Hyung line)

(This mini moodboard is made by me; I don’t own any of the pics.)

• Members: E-Chan, D1, Teo, GK, Heechan

• Group: DKB

• Warning: Mentions of food and the word "kill"

• Synopsis: You wanted to practice your makeup skills and decided to ask him to be your model. Little did you know, you're actually his crush!

[Note: I have zero knowledge about makeup, some things will probably make no sense at all, sorry about that]

Maknae line

E-Chan

He didn't think much about it when you suggested practicing your makeup skills on him.

He was just happy to be able to help you :) (and be with you, of course)

He kept looking at every single thing you did, from your hands moving around the table to prepare the stuff you needed, to your eyebrows frowning every now and then while trying to be focused.

He knew you didn't realize it but whenever you messed up a little bit, your nose scrunched in the cutest way possible, making his eyes shoot hearts towards you 🥺

He tried to throw a few encouraging words here and there, with a soft tone in hopes he wouldn't startle you; "Oh, so you're going to use that now? It will probably go well with that color you used before!" (while giving you a sweet smile and a thumbs up), "I see, you're using this to tone down the eye shadow, nice move"

You've been quiet most of the time, wanting to do a perfect job (perks of being a perfectionist) without getting distracted with the fact of being so close to Changmin's face (if only you knew he was trying to put that thought aside too...!)

He couldn't help but daydream while looking at every single feature of yours, not even trying to hold back a smile, but you thought he was just being his usual nice self.

He looked peaceful and relaxed on the outside but he actually got really shy and nervous every time your eyes met, feeling those stupid wings flying inside his stomach and making him wonder if you would actually hear how loud his heart was suddenly beating...

"Changmin... have you eaten?" but you heard his stomach growling instead, making him blush.

"Uh..." he couldn't help but let out a nervous giggle, he was so embarrased.

"You're lucky that I'm here, coincidentally my mom gave me this morning some *insert a korean food here* that she made. You should try it, she's a really good cook!"

Having to spend time with you and actually eating something your mom has made? He should buy some lotto because today's his lucky day!

D1

You were friends with Heechan, you didn't actually know Dongil.

The thing is, their stylist had to go home that morning because she didn't feel okay, and Dongil had already made a promise yesterday that he would make a Live with Harry at night after practice.

Heechan knows how good of a beauty vlogger you are, so he recommended you to Dongil.

You were surprised by the time you arrived at the practice room, he looked so shy, unlike in the random videos you had seen around YouTube before.

He was so polite, however, and bowed a few times out of nervousness, "I'm D1 but you can call me Dongil. I hope we can get along nicely"

"Hyung, we're not filming an interview, take it easy" Harry was dancing around the room while listening to xiker's Tricky House, unbothered.

"He's right, try to think of me as your usual stylist, okay?" you smiled, making your eyes almost fade away and showing a little dimple.

"Heechan, I'm gonna kill you after this" he felt his ears getting warmer after that, making him even more nervous.

"Okay, we'll start with sorting out the colors that will potentially look good on you, based on your skin tone, hair and outfit" you said in a excited tone, opening your makeup bag.

"Do you do this often? It looks like you know what you're doing" he said half smiling, while "playing" with his ear.

"Oh, so he didn't tell you? I have a YouTube channel, I guess you've never came across it before" you giggled while holding an eyeshadow palette beside his face, trying to see if any of those colors would work.

"Really...? We actually have a friend who..."

He started to talk non-stop about said friend, making Harry laugh in the process, already invested in BTS' ON choreo.

"That's... nice" it was cute, he was cute in fact, the way he had been rambling about it.

"By the way, you have a really pretty skin tone" you were putting a little bit of foundation on his face, thinking that he really didn't need that much because his skin looked good already.

"You're welcome... I mean! Thank you!" if he had been sitting on a chair, he would have fallen to the floor. Harry laughed once again (messing up the steps), amused by his older brother's suffering.

"Heechan didn't mention you'd be this cute, what a surprise"

The blush on his ears spread to his face and prayed that you wouldn't notice.

"Hey, my mom uses that" he pointed to the perfume bottle that was sticking out of your bag, and talked about how nice it's scent was and how much he had missed it.

"When I was on my way to this room, there was a certain scent in the hallway that reminded me of a trip I made with my siblings last year, it was the first time we were going on a trip together without our parents and it made really good memories... Turns out you were the one behind it!"

He didn't know what to say after that, so he talked instead about that time he went on a trip with his parents, the butterfly that scared him when he opened the bathroom door, the shirt he bought in the store that was next to the hotel and somehow what he ate yesterday.

"Dongil?" "Y-yeah?" "I'm done"

He was startled to hear those words, "No! I-I'm sorry, I'll be quiet from now on, I swear!"

"Oh, silly, I mean I'm done with your makeup!" you giggled, giving him your pocket mirror. It seems that he hadn't noticed that he had been talking for the past 20 minutes.

"Oh... I... Actually look good?" he was shocked as if he had never seen his own reflection before.

"Of course you do! You did the most part of it, honestly. Anything would look good on you"

"Oh, uh... Would you like to stay for a while?"

"I can't, but we can catch up another day on that story about that little boy who mistook you for Sunwoo from The Boyz!"

Dongil received a message from Heechan during their Live, "So, how did it go? :)"

"Y/N looks better in person than in the videos!"

Teo

Seongsik accepted quite fast... Helping you and actually having to pass some time with you, why wouldn't he?

Actually, he didn't really have anything better to do and was feeling really bored before you visited the dorms, but you will never know that.

"Did you think about anyone else before me? Ah, of course you didn't, you would never find any other face like this out there"

A quiet "wtf...?" almost escaped your lips, you silently judged him after whatever it was that he had going on.

When you turned around to face him again, he was sitting on the kitchen's counter, trying to look like a model with his gaze upon the horizon...

But he actually looked stupid.

"I should have asked Seongmin", you mumbled under your breath, already tired like a kindergarten teacher that has to look after a bunch of wild and hyperactive kids.

He looked confused when you told him to sit on an actual chair, "But I looked stunning sitting up there though...?"

You were debating between cleaning everything up and going home or actually doing his makeup; you didn't know if he was acting like that for real or just to annoy you, but he was doing a great job.

You tried to remember why you chose to do this in the first place every time he threw a pickup line... A LOT OF DUMB AND CHEESY ONES.

"Aside from being sexy, do you know what else I do for a living?"

"Seongsik, that's not how it works."

For some reason, he couldn't stop picking things up from the table, playing with the brushes and trying to tickle your face.

"One more time and I'll shove this pencil up your-"

"You're trying to look so serious, for what? You haven't smiled once since you came earlier" he tilted his head, looking surprisingly cute (but you'll never admit it though)

"I'm worried" "Why" "You didn't smile after I opened the door"

You rolled your eyes, unsure if he was joking or not because you were actually wearing a mask when that happened.

After what seemed to be hours of silence, he decided to finally make moves, "now or never", he couldn't stop thinking about it.

"I think this lipstick shade would look gorgeous on you, don't you think?", he said nonchalantly while looking at the lipstick container you were closing after putting it on him.

"I'm already wearing-"

You looked at him without realizing he had already got closer to you...

But didn't have time to react once you felt his lips on yours, a soft kiss filled with love and adoration.

You suddenly forgot about the makeup session, with wide eyes and red cheeks after he broke the kiss, checking your reaction and worried of you getting mad at him.

But he actually laughed when he found out that he had made your serious and annoyed façade disappear.

"I guess the boys were right and you do love me after all"

"Shut up" you approached the sink to wash your face in hopes it would stop burning (but failed)

GK

You were able to see all the question marks above his head, trying to understand your words while leaning on the wall with crossed arms, (you know, trying to look like the baddest bad boy... keyword, "trying")

You were holding back a giggle because his eyes were all above the place, in hopes they would land on anything that wasn't you.

"...why me?" is all that he said after processing your request, finally looking at you, "why not?" "...but why, though?"

Once you got him out of his confused state, you had to keep repeating the same words, "no, you don't have to pay me. No, Brave Entertainment didn't send me. No, Gwanghyun, I don't wan't money" (funny enough, someone outside passed by while listening to Lisa's Money)

He is really stubborn, and he couldn't help but think about how this could be seen as how their stylists work almost everyday, refusing to let you do it for free.

He had to drink a whole water bottle before sitting down LMAO

Once you sighed after giving up, he tried really hard to go back to his "bad boy" self, but he was just an anxious mess overthinking every single word that miraculously came out of his mouth.

"Would you mind if I...?", he asked showing you the screen of his phone, where it seemed to be his (also) "bad boy" playlist.

He felt better after the music started to play because he thought it would help him relax, but...

BUT

He noticed you were paying attention to the lyrics when you frowned, as if you were judging him now because of the words that rapper just said.

"Why did I get myself into this?", those words were echoing in his brain because you were quiet, almost too quiet...

"Wait", he suddenly froze after noticing the shapes you just made in his cheeks with a soft pink blush, "Did you just...?" "Yup 😊" "Did you seriously just...?"

You laughed, being no longer able to hold it back. He looked at you in disbelief, "Why would you put hearts on my cheeks? Do you find it funny? Do I look funny to you?" he gestured his hands around his face, making the situation look even more funny.

You made a bet with him; if he made a Live like that, you would accept the money he already decided to give you but if he washed his face before the Live he would have to accept only cute outfits from the stylists from now on.

...guess who's paying for everything on a date next friday?

Heechan

He overheard you talking about it with Changmin on his way to the practice room.

When he was about to go through the door (none of you knowing he was there yet), you lowered your voice and told Changmin that it would be your first time doing someone else's makeup and you were actually really scared of doing something wrong.

He leant on the wall waiting until the leader left the practice room.

"Hey, you, stop. Well, no, don't stop, but, you know what I mean" he was mumbling because his heart started to beat fast when you turned around and looked at him.

You tried to explain him what you wanted to do, which he nodded to with a comforting smile after you finished.

He could see that you didn't feel confident at all, so he made a promise to himself that he would make you smile at least one time, in hopes that would make some of those negative thoughts go away for a while.

"Okay, so" he held your cold hands after noticing they were shaking, "you can start by telling me what kind of style you're going for"

"I... I don't actually know, to be honest... I just wanted to try something that could look good on you..." you were looking at the floor, not even daring to look into his eyes.

"Do you have any ideas to work with?" he placed his hand sofly on your chin, trying to make you look at him.

"Hmm... I saved some of your Twitter photos earlier, but I don't know if you would like any of those"

That made his heart beat faster again, you've just admited you have photos of him on your gallery, OF HIM, not even Junseo or Yuku!

"You can do whatever you want with my face, I'm sure anything would look nice. I've seen a lot of your posts before, you always look good no matter the makeup style, so I guess you could even turn me into V if you wanted to"

"Why would I do that?" you raised an eyebrow, almost offended by the way he suddenly implied he didn't already look good.

The next 15 minutes passed surprisingly quickly. He was lost in thought about what he could possibly say to make you feel better after you became even more quiet, as if you had got mad earlier.

You assumed he was the one who got mad at you, judging by the expression on his face, so you were worried and decided you wouldn't say anything else that could annoy him.

"Why did I have to f*ck things up this much? He probably thinks I'm annoying :("

And then, when you turned around after picking up a brush, he greeted you with one of his "ugly" but funny faces, catching you off guard.

You stumbled and fell to the ground while laughing, out of all things you could have expected him to do, that surely wasn't one of them, but it wasn't unusual either.

"If you find dumb things funny, you should watch that new movie, are you free next wednesday?" he said without actually thinking about the meaning of the words that just escaped his mouth, starting to blush almost as much as you.

"I... You... Let's get on with this!" you tried to focus on what you were supposed to be doing, trying not to overthink what he said nor read too much into it.

He smiled to himself, proud of his little but brave achievement... I guess working for Brave Entertainment has its benefits after all?

[crazy-writer-101]

tw; sour blood

I was always told, 

Trust me. 

But those promises soon went cold, 

When they found out they were free. 

Never being who they said they were to be, 

because their deal of blood got too old. 

Generations and generations 

of nothing but betrayal.

A fire started by our relations, 

so dangerous, so fatal. 

Everything burned from the foundations, 

but things had always been unstable. 

Our blood went sour 

by the world's cruelty. 

We used and abused our power, 

and it turned into painful beauty. 

The kind we want to devour, 

but it turns our insides gloomy. 

Tell me why we share the same blood, 

but it doesn't connect us. 

We're never respected, never loved, 

because we share no trust. 

Tricked, feared, killed, or drugged 

will we only forget all that's corrupt. 

Seasons continue to change, 

but these people never do. 

Always the same story on each page. 

I'll survive the house that never grows and has never grew. 

I'll survive the normal that some call strange. 

But will I be the only one that makes it through? 

I was always told, 

Your blood is your family.

But we were betrayed and those facts were sold. 

We come from the same history, 

Just like the villain and the hero in every story of gold. 

Yet the hero found different blood in his own victory. 

Family doesn't always mean blood knots, 

But sometimes you find it where you never even look;  

In the wild souls and soft hearts. 

I don't need my own past to write our book. 

These pages will have the future, not a curse, 

because we never ignore or overlook.

Blood will spill and dry up, 

but our souls will go on forever. 

Blood will leave us abrupt, 

but we will hold tight to our found treasure. 

The vampire of our past will leave us sucked, 

for we only wished ourselves better.

But we're family. 

And I wished it stayed like that, 

but generations of the same selfish rhapsody, 

has taken it from our grasp. 

Only if our story hadn't been a tragedy, 

we could have been a family with no tricks or traps

It's too late, my dear. 

In another life, our blood wouldn't have gone sour, 

and our trust would still be here. 

But now I've found something to replace what was never ours. 

Our mixed blood creates a color palette free from fears and tears. 

I've finally found something to fix all that needs repairs. 

[emareep]

eMareep Special TCG Collection - Kanto dex collection

Page 3 - #019 - 027

Weee-owww, these pictures did not look so crooked when I was taking them. Hopefully I'll get better at that, or can just get a scanner or something. I was about to say something very similar to the last page, about how it's full of my favorites. But it's the OG squad, so of course it is.

I could not resist classic chunky pikachu. Luckily, base set common cards are not actually that expensive. If you're fine having one in the condition you might have had it in as a kid, a lightly or moderately played one will cost around a $1-2. A small price to pay for fat pikachu. That said, that chonkly boy is not who I'm here to talk about today.

#1 Card of the Page

Raichu ~ Generations: Radiant Collection ~ Aya Kusube

The radiant collection has some of the best cards, in terms of pure cuteness. I mean, look at this guy. How is this whole post not just me going: "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH". I love him.

Aya Kusube did an excellent job here. She's one of those artists you learn to recognize quickly when getting into the TCG. Her work reminds me of illustrations that would appear in old children's books. It's colorful, but soft and dreamy; even the typically bright yellow tail of raichu fits right in with this scene. I wish I could be in this field of flowers right now.

According to internet, she primarily uses Charcoal with a simple palette of colors. The variance of detail Kusube shows in this illustration, despite the limitations, shows off her talent well. This raichu is an absolutely perfect creature, and just the cutest lil guy.

5/5 bags of pokemon.

Bonus Detail: "gosh aren't I just a cute little guy, just hanging out here in this meadow. How I love to frolic. Wouldn't you love to join me? I definitely will not kill you with electricity powers." - This Raichu, probably.

Flora of The Pokemon TCG UPDATE:

[spidey-bie]

(You know, I probably got shadowbanned because I reblogged a picture of uncensored breasts in a compile post of historical pictures of lesbians. Like, fully uncensored out there tits. Watch me do it again because I'm not sorry) -After careful thought, I have realized that Hobie's second love language might be quality time, considering that he lives with everyone that he is vulnerable with in the spider-punk comics. Food for thought.

-I have learned, via math that Moxie is actually a buff ass bitch second to Hulk in terms of strength. I divided the body difference that the average crab spider is able to eat. most are able to kill and eat 3.6x their body weight in bigger prey, then used that as a resting weight because that's the average to get a baseline for their highest lift weight and hysterical strength. The easiest load that they are able to lift one handed is 36 tons. GODDAMN. In terms of hysterical strength, because the human body only lifts 50 percent of what it is capable of due to a unique difference between humans and other animals (meaning other animals can use their full strength off the bat, humans have to work up to it so they don't hurt themselves and their body) they'd lift anywhere between 300-500 tons in hysterical strength. their lift weight would be around 200 tons. The goddamn was necessary. Average Spiderman usually only go to 1-10 tons.

-MOXIE BROKE MY PLOT! ;w; IM WRITING THEIR STORY AND AFTER HOBIE GOES AWAY TO HIS OWN WORLD, MOXIE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO MEET THEM AGAIN UNTIL THEY BUILT A MACHINE TO KEEP MIGUEL B AND THE SPIDER SOCIETY FROM TRAVELING TO HIS UNIVERSE (because spider society works on fascism baseline, to root out diversity in spider people so that they don't break the world. Hobie's universe is the exact place where those ideals can thrive fully and therefore fuck him harder then anyone else in the web.) BUT THEY FUCKING WRECKED MY PLOT. BY MY OWN LAWS OF BULLSHIT WHAT THEY NEED TO TELEPORT INTO A COLOR IS A TANGABLE SURFACE, AN INTIMATE IMAGE (well made and acquainted) OF THE LOCATION AND A MATCHING COLOR PALETTE. BECAUSE MOXIE HAS TO TAKE ALL OF THEMSELVES WITH THEM WHEN THEY TELEPORT, THEIR DEAD SKIN CELLS AND DNA WOULD HAVE TO BE ABLE TO COLORCHANGE. THEREFORE ANYTHING THEY'VE BEEN AROUND LONG ENOUGH TO BRUSH ONTO WOULD BE ABLE TO CHANGE COLORPALETTES FROM THEIR COMMAND, THEREFORE CAN TELEPORT FUCKING ANYWHERE. I DIDN'T MAKE IT A RULE THEY CAN'T TELEPORT OUT OF DIMENSIONS IF THE OBJECT THEY ARE INTIMATE WITH IS IN ANOTHER DIMENSION. THEY CAN TELEPORT TO HOBIE ANYTIME FROM HIS SUIT AS LONG AS THEY MEET WITH A RED AND BLUE SURFACE. FUCK! This also means if they're ever caught by another spiderman when they start rebelling that they can literally teleport the fuck away because their suits and bodies are tangable surfaces. I MADE THE BITCH O.P.

-There is a bathhouse scene. No, it isn't romantic but oh my god the fluff. I'm dying of diabetes over here, jay. You can't even fucking- It's so soft. I might just write it first and slide it into your ask box.

-Moxie's universe Hobie is a florist who is an anarchic environmentalist. In their universe, political environmentalist who work in botany based jobs are called Honey Bees. Yes, I only did that because it sounded cute.

-Lavender in their world is the blue shoelace version of the punk scene. This has cultural and historical significance. At an old shitty venue 60+ years before the story takes place, a young black woman ran in when a punk band was playing because she was targeted by police. In retaliation the band that was playing at the time (Untamed Misfits is the name of the band) Had a really really buff and hairy singer, who was also black. They switch clothes, the singer now in a lavender long-skirted dress and waited until the cops came so that he could kick their ass. Events happened that later lead to a historical event called the Lavender Riots. It also pairs with the gay movement because the guy who was arrested was a non-passing masculine in a dress. I am indeed doing social research for this story, how could you tell?

-Punks after Moxie jumps into the scene as "painter" (Boring, I know but they don't fall into the spider brand because they personally do not find it flattering to only be seen as a mutant, an other, instead of a human first. There is nothing more human then passion itself.) the local punks actually start a new kinda subgroup called Splatter-punk. Think of the most eye bleeding shit with body paint hell over your usual DIY punk fit. That's it. Also Your spidersona is cool as fuck, keep us updated on that playlist lore?

Going to add that into my personal HCs. Hobie Brown.... quality time.

I HATE WHEN THEY DO THAT. Actually I know more than you about my own plot thank you very much. I MADE YOU WDYM.

Siiiigh it seems the sugar high is spreading 😔. Fluff everywhere. I'm gonna have to write some angst soon or something lest y'all get too comfortable. BUT YES I'D LOVE TO READ THIS BATHHOUSE SCENE.

Honey bees ASDFGSJXJDJDKKD 😭

Ah so I'm not the only person doing in depth research on different countercultures and social movements when coming up with my ocs. Noted.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THAT BECAUSE I NEEDED MOTIVATION TO FINISH MY PLAYLIST POST. I have to finish editing part 2 which goes into more of her backstory. But I really wanna get to her Aunt and MJ so I keep getting distracted 😭

[natade-art]

sketches scenes from my own fic more than a year after writing it

ID: four colored-in digital sketches of Hiyori and Yamato from One Piece each featuring a line or two from the scene it pictures. In the first, in darker and bluer colors, Yamato sleeps with his head in Hiyori’s lap. She holds a small knife to his throat. The text on this image says “She holds the blade millimeters above his throat with steady hands as he breathes evenly in his dreaming. It would be so easy to kill you now, she thinks. You trust me too much.”

The second image shows Hiyori, hair down but still wearing Komurasaki’s makeup and holding a box. She’s standing above Yamato, who sits on the floor besides a low table with a bandaged arm. The quote here is “When she stands to put away the first-aid kit it is her, for once, who towers above him.”

The third is Hiyori in soft, saturated colors as she dresses after revealing her identity, smiling as her hair blows in the wind. Closer to the camera is the back of Yamato’s head. This one is captioned “It’s been twenty long years, but Wano is finally free and against all odds, so are the two of them.”

The last is a close-up of Yamato smiling, still in that soft pink-purple tinted palette. This one has the most background of all of them, with hills and clouds and a dawn sky behind him. His face is bandaged and there are sparkles around him. “The first rays of sunlight spill over the horizon. the most beautiful sky she’s ever seen paints Yamato’s hair iridescent and behind him, her country glitters in it’s new beginning.” end ID

[smittenskitten]

♡♡♡ When you receive this, tag your favorite content creators to give them a little shoutout and show some support! Let's try to end 2022 on a positive note and show others that they have brightened our days on tumblr!

ABSOLUTELY!

@belsmultifandommess makes the best cdrama edits. This is one of favorite from bel's LBFAD gifs

@liyazaki this bl 22 set Mor made!! Gorgeous

@fangrui the best layouts! I die. The sandman sets are so pretty.

@team-win soft color palette. All the between us sets 💗 specially this one.

@machikeita THE GRADIENTS! i am always at awe how pretty they look

@ashinlae if i need to find a wet lil meow meow, I will go here. They always cheer me up 👀

@billlkin the softest coloring! I love this one. I promise I will watch To Sir With Love soon

@wanderlust-in-my-soul the crispiest gifs ever! eahmix cinematic universe sets kills me. IT SO CUTE

@moonlightchicken the poster set for moonlight chicken. So pretty

@guzhu-furen all the kp text posts are the best.

@kinnsporsche this timeline set absolutely 🤯

@leedongwook all the lee dong wook thirst post

THANK YOU FOR MAKING MY DASH SO PRETTY 💗💗💗💗

[thesoundofmadness]

What the red space scene means (spoilers)

hi i just played through black/red space in omori and i have some Thoughts. this post is a mess. also spoilers. I mainly want to talk about the red space scene but im also going to be going over black space because context. Also i use second-person pov alot here so if that's an issue, dont read. Before I get into this, few things you gotta understand. 1. the game needs you to get attached to the characters of OMORI because otherwise the story won't have any impact on you. Luckily it's pretty easy to get attached to the characters, both headspace and irl versions. Luckily, the game gives you plenty of reason and time to get attached to the characters. 2. Agency. Agency refers to the choices made by the characters and player. There's a clear distinct between Player Agency (aka choices the Player makes) and Character Agency (the choices the Characters make). It isn't meta like Undertale's take on the matter, but it's still there. If you need a good example, the bathroom scene with Basil and Sunny is a great one. The player has no option but to leave Basil behind in the bathroom because that's what Sunny chooses to do. He chooses do that because confronting Basil there would mean confronting the Truth and Sunny just isn't ready for that yet. Okay so, after you defeat Humphrey, you swim through the caverns of deep well. During so, you're told basically "You're close to finding the truth. Keep going." You go back to Neighbors Room. If you haven't collected all the keys, you have to go search for them. If you have collected all them, you're supposed to go to Basil's house, where you will enter Black Space. If White Space is nothing, Black Space is everything. Black Space is all the trauma Sunny has repressed. You go through various rooms, being told by Stranger basically, "Face the truth, it's the only way to save Basil." In a few of the rooms, you do actually find Basil, but he dies in some very brutal ways. Basil dying has multiple meanings to it, but I think it's supposed to represent how not facing the truth will kill basil, as in the neutral endings, he commits suicide. After you leave Black Space, you go into a church and find Basil being held and absorbed by SOMETHING. This is showing Sunny that Basil is being crushed under the weight of the truth. A text box shows up asking you, "Do you want to save Basil?" You have to select yes to continue. You get absorbed by SOMETHING and find yourself and Basil in front of the sliding glass door, colored a bright red. Basil says "there's something leading me out there....". When he tries to go out, he backs away from the door, only to be dragged out the door by SOMETHING. When you go through the door, you are greeted with a black-red empty space.

You see Basil's hand tracks and follow them. The game gives you no other choice to. You go, and find Basil being held by red hands.

Basil apologogizes, saying, "I'm.... I'm so sorry.... Will you forgive me? My best friend...." He's shaking, trying to get out of the hands grip. He cries and begs for you to do something, to make the hands let go of him. But you can't do anything. Omori steps closer. Basil keeps begging you to get the hands to stop. As Basil shouts, "HELP ME!!" Omori.... pulls out his knife. He stabs him twice. And you are forced to watch a cutscene of Sunny climbing stairs, and sitting on a throne made out of red, hyper-realistic hands. All the while he stares at you, emotionless. As if he doesn't care what he just did. This scene is amazing for multiple reasons. The color palette completely changes from the soft pastel purple/blues headspace is, and realistic, yet gentle, coloring from faraway town into a harsh red and black. The big, realistic hands are a slap in the face when you're used to the cute hand-drawn style the rest of the game uses. And Omoris faceless expression as he does it only makes it worse. It's absolutely one of the most stand-out moments of the game. Not only that, but it just adds to the mystery of whats going on. At this point, you still don't know what happened to Mari. It's so confusing and disturbing. The OST only adds to it. The ost is like, they made music but took away everything that makes it click. It sounds like car tires screeching. It doesn't help that after this scene, the game moves on like it just never happened. So, what the fuck does this scene mean? At the start of the game, Omori is nothing more than an OC for Sunny to fuck around with. Headspace is simply a distraction from the pain Sunny is in, and Omori is a means of creating and exploring that distraction. Like drawing with a pen. Omori was made to protect Sunny from the truth, but everything keeps pushing Sunny into confronting it. This scene is the moment Omori turns against Sunny. He wasn't able to keep Sunny from finding out the truth, so he turns against him, embracing the trauma and becoming the very thing Sunny was trying to run away from. The hands are meant to represent the guilt Sunny feels for what he did to Mari. And the final boss fight against him shows that. But there's a bit more to it then what it means story-wise. This is also the moment where Omori detaches himself from the player and signifies himself as his own character. You, the player, want to save Basil. The whole game up to this point revolves around you trying to save him. Even if you don't like Basil, you'd have to be some kind of monster to see Basil BEGGING for help and NOT want to help. The game almost tricks you into thinking you can save Basil here, with that "do you want to save Basil?" text box. But you don't have the power here. Omori does. Omori completely strips you of your agency and forces you to watch as he asends his throne. All the while staying neutral. He knows what he's done, but doesn't care.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Master Post - The Untamed

All of my CQL original content! This consolidates & replaces my previous CQL masterposts. 

You MAY repost any gifs or images from ANY of my “Restless Rewatch” posts as long as you credit me (Canary3d) or my blog (@canary3d-obsessed) somewhere in your post or comment. For non-Restless Rewatch images, please ask me first. (If you’re using Tumblr’s weird gif feature there’s no need to ask because that embeds a credit and it’s impossible to tell if it came from a RR post or not). 

Restless Rewatch Gifs and Memes

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |part 6 (Jiang Cheng) |part 7 

Restless Rewatch Full Posts

Now also on AO3: Restless Rewatch: The Untamed by Canary3d

I’ve updated these links with gaps between the A and B parts, so hopefully they will work properly in the phone app, unlike before. If they’re still not working, please drop me a note, thanks!

Ep 41 (part one) and (part 2) and (part 3) (NEW)

Ep 40 (part one) and (part 2)

Ep 39 (part one) and (part 2) and (part 3) 

Ep 38 (A) and (B)

Ep 37 (A) and (B)

Ep 36 (A) and (B) 

Ep 35 (A) and (B) 

Ep 34 (A)

Ep 33 (A) and (B)

Ep 32 (A) and (B)

Ep 31 (A) and (B) 

Ep 30 (A) and (B) 

Ep 29 (A) and (B) 

Ep 28 (A) 

Ep27 (A) and (B)

Ep26 (A) and (B) 

Ep25 (A) and (B) 

Ep24 (A)  and (B) 

Ep23 (A) and (B) 

Ep22 (A) and (B) 

Ep21(A) and (B) 

Ep20 (A) and (B) and (C) 

Ep19 (A) and (B) 

Ep18: (A) and (B) 

Ep17 (A) and (B)  

Ep 16: (A) and (B)  

Ep15 (A)  

Ep14 (A) and (B)  

Ep13 (A) and (B) 

Ep12 (A) and (B) and EXTRAS 

Ep11 (A) and (B) 

Ep10 (A) and (B) 

Ep09 (A) and (B) 

Ep08 (A) and (B) 

Ep07 (A) and (B) 

Ep06 (A) and (B) 

Ep05 (A) and (B) 

Ep04 (A) and (B) 

Ep03 (A)  

Ep02 (A) 

Ep01 (A)

Restless Writing Prompts 

Clipper’s Guide to The Untamed

Mo Dao Zu Shi Adaptations Available in English

Parallels

I love digging into the many, many visual, stylistic, and thematic parallels in The Untamed.

A cave, a baby, a fever 

Wrist Holding: Parting & Reunion

The Blurry Sword of Doom 

Bichen at Wei Wuxian’s Throat 

The Honor of a Glance (more of a “see how time changes things” than a parallel, exactly) 

Troublemaker (ditto above) 

Letting Go

Arm Holding on Mount Yeet - Gif Overlay Challenge

Protective Lans

Putting Lan Zhan to Bed  

A Gentleman’s Revenge

Answer Me

When the Man Comes Around

I Am Leaving

You Touch It You Buy It

The Sky is Vast and the Earth is Wide

Pay It Forward

Wen Ning’s Boat Rides

(Here’s a cut so I don’t kill your dashboard)

Holding on/Letting go

Don’t Cry

Having a Spat, Yunmeng Style

Like Father, Like Son

Let Me Carry You

Never

Great Idea, Thanks Bro

Assorted Gifs & Memes & Stuff

Mood: Serious

Lan Wangji Watching Wei Wuxian, Episode 33

Wei Wuxian screaming with Xiao Zhan’s voice 

Rainy Argument 1 | 2 | 3 

Rainy

World’s Second-Worst Party Guest

Wei Wuxian is here to  make you feel better

Yu Ziyuan’s daughter

If you don’t trust me, how can you help me?

Do You Want Revenge?

Wei Wuxian Blindfolding Jiang Cheng

Contemplating the Future

Which unlucky family’s place did you take?

Hands, Episode 16

Zidian Beatdown

A Man Should Have Scars

Trauma Survivor Wei Wuxian

Mood: Neutral

Reciting the Lan rules at the Wen indoctrination

Question and Answer Time

Lan Zhan, do you like rabbits?

Right in Front of Lil Apple’s Apple Salad 

Jiang Cheng and his facial expressions 

Besties

Wei Wuxian wants you to know: you’re awesome

LWJ looking at WWX

I adore you//Fucking hell

Color Palette Challenge

Blindfolded

The many loves of Wei Wuxian

Significant Glances

Flute Fixing

Study Time in Yiling

Single Plank Bridge (Untamed/Yanxi Palace)

Soft Papa

WWX Jumps into Battle

Wen Siblings @ Burial Grounds

Flower Boys

Flower Boy Nie Huaisang

Fisherman Nie Huaisang

Kicking Your Ass: Teen Edition

Kicking Your Ass: Adult Edition

This Beautiful Hothead

Mood: Silly

The Adventures of Paperman 

New Problems Have Appeared 

Let’s have a cooking sequence but make it terrible 

That Twitter/Tumbler Meme but it’s CQL 

Reactions to Sisi’s Story, Ep 45 

Wangxian Communication

The Untamed as Dear Prudie Letters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 

Curses, cockblocked again

The Tuber of Disappointment 

Wei Wuxian & Wen Kexing

Wen Qing and the Lan Nymphs

No Time for Necromancy

When the landlord says it’s ok to repaint

How did you express the pain (WOH spoiler!)

The Untamed as Psychology Today Articles

Voice Actor Wang Kai Yelling at Xiao Zhan

Half-Incorrect Subtitles

Wangxian Brothel AU 

Nie Mingjue Yells Merry Christmas

Wei Wuxian making out with his Lunch

Wei Wuxian x Unnecessarily Erotic Drinking

Nie Huaisang Reporting In

Strong Hanguang Jun

Jiang Cheng’s Purple Jammies

Wei Wuxian searches Xue Yang

Adolescent’s observation

Failmaster Lan Qiren

Oh No He Noticed

Super Regularly

Oh Crap! Act Normal!

Emergency Hairpieces

Acceptability Review Meeting Episode 45/46

Acceptability Review Meeting Episode 45

Fanvids

Drinking, Drinking, Drinking

Xue Yang/Dandy Highwayman

Fight Moves/You Spin Me

Wei Wuxian/Not an Addict

Fanfic

Fractured Spirit (Warning: EXPLICIT)

Other Stuff

Adoption meta

[blackacre13]

Please continue the teacher student au

Part 19 is here ; Here's Part 20:

Debbie nodded, licking her lips as she moved to the bed, laying down on her back, her eyes following the blonde’s movements as she hooked the dildo through the harness, moving the harness up her hips with ease before she turned to the brunette.

“Where do you keep your—“ Lou started to ask, only to be cut off by Debbie.

“No need,” Debbie smirked, her eyes twinkling as she wagged her index finger in a come-hither motion to Lou, the blonde looking at her sideways as she walked forward, unsure what Debbie meant. But then the brunette was taking the strap between her hands, tugging Lou towards the bed the rest of the way before she ran her fist up and down the shaft, licking her lips. “Let me get that ready for you, baby.”

Lou was floating. No, she was flying. No, that wasn’t quite right either. She didn’t know what she was, but she knew she felt warm, and safe, and dare she even say it…loved.

She could feel Debbie’s fingers carding through her hair and tugging at. Could feel Debbie’s lips ghosting along her neck and shoulders and collarbone. Felt the tickle of her whisper in her ear. The tug of her lips and the raking of her teeth against Lou’s…Fuck.

The blonde shot up in bed, dizzying herself with the sudden momentum as she glanced around her, only now truly seeing Debbie’s bedroom as the sun peered in through the windows.

They had been slightly cracked. And instead of curtains, long, sheer tulle-like fabric blew in the breeze against the walls, the material billowing out into the room with a gust before receding with a sigh. She couldn’t quite pin the color on it, nor why it reminded her of the ocean.

The sheets moved with her body as she rolled, blushing as still perky nipples brushed against the comforter and the slickness between her naked thighs. She looked around, aching for Debbie, but her curiosity getting the best of her as she scoped out the room from the bed.

The dog-eared, tattered book on art theory on Debbie’s night table. A canvas tucked in the corner behind an armchair that she couldn’t quite see, but smirked as she was able to decipher the squished cursive “D.O.” in the bottom right corner of the piece. Little marble figurines. A stack of abandoned paint palettes and charcoals on the floor. A picture of a man who rather resembled Debbie and would be quite handsome if Lou had any interest in men at all. Danny, she assumed. Museum and gallery postcards. An antique trunk that Lou would be good money on holding sex toys instead of sweaters.

“I see you’re finally awake, my sleeper,” a soft voice whispered, throwing Lou slightly in her snooping as she turned to face Debbie. Hair ruffled and curlier. Clean, makeup-less face. Silk, kimono robe. Long, naked legs.

Lou’s gazing and gawking prevented her from uttering any sort of response, but Debbie wasn’t offended in the slightest. The blonde was still trying to let her mind catch up with reality. The club. The hallway with the artwork. The car ride. Last night. It had all seemed absolutely unreal. Her fantasies getting the best of her, she had half-expected to wake up on the floor of an art studio, clutching charcoals in her hand. But this was real. And here was Deborah Ocean. Morning after Debbie. Simple Debbie. At home Debbie. And she was radiant.

“I have to admit,” Debbie chuckled to herself sitting down gingerly on the edge of the bed next to the blonde. “While I was quite taken by the shirtless suit ensemble, I was wishing you had a button down I could’ve stolen this morning to greet you in.”

“I think that would have killed me,” Lou admitted, finally finding her voice as she told herself this was real over and over.

Debbie’s fingers slid towards her, entwining with Lou’s as she let out a soft hum.

“I wish I was the type of woman who could tell you that there’s breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen,” Debbie sighed. “Or that I at least had a cup of coffee to offer you before you go.”

Just as soon as Lou’s heart had started to flutter, she felt it sinking in her chest, Debbie’s words not matching the way she was inching closer to the younger woman as if she felt she’d been too far away for too long and was craving her the way Lou was craving Debbie. She needed her skin against hers. Needed to hear the thrumming of her heartbeat. Her gentle breathing. Needed the scent of her perfume tickling her nose.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Debbie breathed suddenly, blushing as she shook her head at herself. Lou looked up at her in awe, again wondering how this woman could read her so well without any words or expressions to call her bluff. “I’m just always a bit of a mess in the mornings. I’m actually surprised I was awake before you, but I was just too eager to start our day.”

Our day, Lou thought.

“But then you just looked so peaceful sleeping and I couldn’t bear to wake you and I should’ve attempted to make you eggs or a piece of toast or even had a piece of fruit to offer, but I—“

“Debbie,” Lou smiled, relishing the name of her lips and the way the brunette was rambling, their power stance and confidences almost shifting in a continuous circle, back and forth. “I don’t need anything. Well, aside from you. I most definitely need you. Right this instant, hopefully.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Debbie smirked, licking her lips as she crawled forward to kiss Lou deeply before pulling back with a satisfied grin. “Because I was hoping for exactly the opposites,” she murmured, tucking herself beneath the comforter as she laid across the blonde’s chest, kissing and nipping at her breasts as she slid lower, her hands ghosting along her neck and breasts as her mouth moved towards the blonde’s hips, rolling without Lou’s control as Debbie ran across them like ink, finally breathing against Lou’s heat as she gasped.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Lou laughed, her voice strained as her eyes fluttered, Debbie licking along her inner thigh.

“Out for breakfast,” the brunette mumbled against her heat, twisting Lou’s nipple as she cried out only to be consoled with the swipe of Debbie’s tongue and her melodic moans.