#throwing so much shade at four individuals specifically

[e-xolite]

Looking back on my time in the wings of fire 7 thrones community is genuinely super interesting

Like I will fully admit I was kinda an ass to a few people, but just watching the fallout happen and the experiences that others have had has been very interesting.

I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that the same people I had issues with were the same people who stalked, harassed and bullied others. Like I’m so sure it’s TOTALLY a coincidence that the moderators are friends with these people.

Totally a coincidence, right?

Legit nothing has changed since 2022 it’s so funny

[yostresswritinggirl]

I like Venti so much. Best boy.

How would Venti feel about an S/O with synesthasia. The ability to hear color. One day she goes to him performing on the street with a sketchpap and shows him what he sounds like.

My, my, look who it is. The person who started it all, and ending it. It's amusing how this came full circle and of course you bring me such an interesting yet difficult prompt *balls fist, shakes at sky*

I had a lot of time to think about this and I feel it was still so hard to make. And there's so many variants and uniqueness to each case so this will be a wild ride. But this marks the end of this special event and on to a new one, and I thank you especially for being with me through it!

This fic made me realize I need a better Venti banner lololol

Ethereal Hues

Venti with a Reader with Synesthesia (Specifically, the ability to see sounds)

The wind-borne bard fancies audiences that sings along, that joins him in his merry tunes. He knows faces, distinguishes them, reads their responses. If it was unorthodox tales he sang, he would laugh at the predicted angry churns. If it were awesome tales of adventures, Venti would bask in the glory of awe and cheers.

And so he finds you to be the most peculiar individual he has ever audienced. You stand in the back far away from the crowd as you carry with you a notebook. Based on the way you steal glances to him whenever he performs out in public and the way your hands moved, you were definitely sketching him, yet you paid no such expression for his songs the same way the others did. And he was sure you were no deaf individual.

He had been intrigued since day one, and he had been so even at the third. When he wishes to come to you, he would always find you packing up immediately after his performances, and he would be swept aside by the task at hand: getting his share of Mora for a fantastic performance.

You were only there for his music, and your interest seem to disappear the moment the music is lost.

So slowly he would adjust his schedule, making it so his songs linger longer, his notes stretching out more just to keep you there in his vision for longer. And yet whenever he privies himself to have caught your attention, it seems as tho you were not really interested at him: even if the distance between you were great, he knows you were looking through him.

This game of cat and mouse had stretched out to seven days.

You managed to attend every tale the bard tells within the walls of Mondstadt but never have you stepped foot inside the tavern of Angel’s Share when he would perform late at night. With this discovery, he doesn’t bother to try lure you out from there, opting to skip performing in the tavern.

Much to Diluc’s surprise. It had gone so that the bartender himself asked if things were not looking great for the bard, but he was met by a smug and conniving smile, that he was quick to smack the shit out of and never bother about again.

Every time the bard wishes to approach you after the last string of his lyre is plucked, he was blocked by the crowd or pulled by a child, enough to render him unmoving, enough of a timeframe for you to disappear. You would think it was you purposely evading the bard’s advances but the way you move and act doesn’t seem like you were running away or in a hurry, more so, you look more disappointed that the festivities had to end every time.

A week of disappointments had led Venti to play his sorrows to his lyre under the tree at Windrise. It was a tune that no one in the public eye has seen him play and he was content in indulging on his own misery.

“Eyes from the fountain bench, of a longing stare had whence.

Slip between thy grasp, even as I call out through a rasp.”

“Ah, a different one this time,” he’d almost fallen out of the branch he was hanging by when a voice suddenly spoke out from beneath the tree’s shade. And there you are in all your glory, an amused expression in your face as you watch the Anemo wielder catch himself before gracefully flying down in front of you in disbelief. “Hello.”

“Hi!” He squeaked out before clearing his throat, adjusting his posture to reflect his usual composed facade with that wide grin.

“The colors brought me here, but I didn’t expect you to be the one producing them.” He watched you fumble with the familiar sketchbook in your hand, his muse in his curiousities right in front of him nonchalantly, as if fate had not been trying its best to separate them for the past week. "With the collection complete, I can finally show you the whole thing!" You practically shoved the pad to his face, forcing him to step back.

And there he saw the most ethereal painting he had seen of himself. His lone form in front of the statue where he usually plays, there in his company were streaks of light blue, reminiscent of Barbara's elemental skill. He clutches the pad for a better look as he notices more blots of complementary colors littered in ecstatic manners. Below, the words 'glee' was written in dark cursive.

Next page had warmer colors, that wrapped around him like silk and satin which would then plunge to the floor like cold white mist. This one was labelled 'Comfort.'

There were four more illustrations that depict numerous vibes of his tunes whenever he had performed, and paired with it comes different colors and patterns. Each one was more detailed than the last and with new vigor he was more than eager to see the next ones—

And then the last one was the latest, where he was once singing his odes and woes from the tree's branches. Yet this one holds a different gesture to it and he sucks in the details with a faraway gaze. Black, gray and navy blue hang like curtain as it seemingly seeps from his flesh, tangling into a weightless form before diverging into a single string of black that casts itself past the borders of the paper. It was like shadows that desperately cling to its owner, ones sadness and desperation taking form into a monster that seeks a vessel.

He looks up to you with eyes once again shining at the brilliance of the illustrations- before he clutched the pad to his chest, a toothy grin and a dangerous glint in his teal eyes, "I'm keeping this~"

To hell with that.

First he takes your sketchpad and rifts through it like there's no tomorrow, and then he lays claim on it?! The audacity of this bard!

With the only arsenal that you had, you started throwing brushes and acrylics at the floating bard until he had to crash land from getting caught by his extravagant cape. What an oversight.

That day, you'd finally sit down with the famous bard and properly got to introduce each other. While you're ecstatic to chat with the person you'd long admired from afar, Venti was more ecstatic at the idea of you and your marvelous power. It's similar to elemental sight, he imagines, and he pried with more inquiries than you had anticipated.

You thought he'd be weirded out by both your colorful sense or the fact that you had stalked him for a week to immortalize his ethereal glow in the shadows.

Yet he was so open-minded about it, wanting to accompany you more on your endeavors and jokingly using you as his marketing manager for more Mora opportunities. You find the idea not so bad.

At one point in time without your knowledge nor acknowledgement, Venti (ever so curious boy) changed his form from his bard friend to copy yours, trying to see if he were able to replicate your vision. Alas it was not as easy as that. Whatever Venti did after that, not even Celestia knows.

Your ability to see the streams of music instead of just projecting associated shapes and colors had made it easy to find Venti, and vice versa.

When he wants to find you specifically, Venti sings your name in a lilting melody as he walks through the stone streets of Mondstadt, the blazing color pouring through your window as you crane your head out and look him down from the second floor.

Venti's invisible aura brightens at the sight of you and he presents the fresh Cecilias in his hand, singing for you to accompany him to another day and you're forced to do so with his cheesiness.

He continues to sing even as you resign to your home to prepare. Unbeknownst to you the people of Mond watched with wonder and awe at the sweetness of the serenading bard that comes by every 9 AM daily to your doorstep.

Nature rarer uses yellow

Than another hue;

Saves she all of that for sunsets, —

Prodigal of blue,

Spending scarlet like a woman,

Yellow she affords

Only scantly and selectly,

Like a lover's words.

You tilt your head at Venti at his lyrics, its lines influencing the color that coats him before his lyre finally calms its strings. He does not expand on his words as the silent conversation ended with a smile. Venti had been making songs with colors incorporated in them and despite the Muse of hues, you have yet to understand what they truly mean. If they mean anything at all.

You wish you could bring about the same flowery words to describe how beautiful Venti is, your current muse, adorned with the colors of a world only you can see. But for now, as you watch him smile past the crowd and lock eyes with yours, the most you can do is immortalize his ethereal hues. Until you finally work up the courage to admit it was not the colors that had drawn you to him.

This is a blessed day as it marks the end of the 50 followers event, and start the 100 followers one! Thank you for joining us in this journey, we still have a long way to go!

[feelingbluepolitics]

We Must Handle the Truth

There's no question that the management of Donald trump will be an issue of on-going global importance. Knocking him from his (alleged) official perch is only the first step.

The more crucial steps must follow, because trump will retain his influence and his supporters, and they will do whatever he hints that he wants, even up to treasonous attacks, assassination attempts, and mass murders.

We must be clear. There is no cozy "look to the future and heal" pretence of an option in our present situation. This is aside from the fact that taking that Pollyanna path repeatedly --from Watergate to Reagan to Bush-- helped to criminalize and radicalize the Republicon Party into the danger they are today.

Shame, honor, and true patriotism have become vestigial on the Right. Their criminal administrations and elected representatives keep getting away with what they do because we embolden them each time with a blind eye.

That is not how justice works. The blind eye of justice means that no one, no matter how powerful, is exempt. The time to work on that is January 20, 2021, and we are far overdue. Politicians, corporations, tax cheats, polluters: we still have laws, for all of trump's and his administration's destructive efforts.

We sully our government offices and endanger our nation by not requiring accountability to the office and to the people, over and above any present occupant. Where we are blocked by pardons we must still have thorough public investigation. That is not a waste of time for lack of a prosecutorial path. It is existential. It's the accountability we cannot do without. It's the foundation of the future laws we need to draft and pass to safeguard this country.

Pardons become entirely corrupt when we acquiesce to them blocking investigation. Democracies survive on information and truth, combined. We are where we are now in part because we still have corrupt actors left-over from Watergate active in our politics.

What are we to do about trump? That isn't initially, or perhaps ever, all about pardons, or state versus federal charges, or orange jumpsuits. In this instance, ironically, the potential solution is all about trump. This is where an examination of how trump interacts with the rest of the human world can guide us.

He forms specific categories of relationships which are actually invariable, because he is permanently shallow and unperceptive. Because trump the consumate narcissist is always the center of every relationship, and because he is, without introspection, forever fixed in all his defects, all of his various relationships fall into the same patterns within their categories. Here they are:

1) The Strongmen. Shades of daddy Fred trump, these are aspirational relationships teaching the type of utter control the core pathetic trump would like to wield. But because of daddy, trump is conditioned to the "love me, admire me, and be useful and loyal or I will harm or destroy you" format, but on the weaker side.

This is why we have seen trump pushing the United States of America into eagerly obsequious deference with respect to Russia, North Korea, and Turkey, and also pandering to Saudi Arabia's power which is additionally derived through vast transactional wealth.

But we cannot and do not want to transform America or Biden into this Strongman mold, because then it will have been pointless to remove trump.

2) The Assets. This category comprises trump's immediate family members and all Republicons in office, from Mitch McConnell to Kevin McCarthy, and from Michigan’s Republicon Senate members to, potentially, Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett. This category also extends to trump's supporters, mostly as a collective.

These are the flipside of the Strongman category, where trump gets to play the opposite role. These people are tools, who work constantly to remain in good standing with trump, rendering obsequious deference and servitude as a matter of advantage but also, essentially, as a matter of status survival.

trump is a horrible antagonist or enemy.

This, by the way, is exactly the relationship this country cannot continue to allow with trump, as a matter of national security.

3) The Targets. We know who they are. They caught trump's wrathful attention. Some of the targets are personal to trump to varying degrees, while some are a matter of expediency, or are demonstrated examples, or are, so far, peripheral.

But everybody knows trump will never stop -- that is the personna he cultivated-- unless a Target person has something of value to make them an Asset again. (This is why trump is called purely transactional, in combination with having no beliefs, no morality, and no honesty.)

Fauci, and Birx, (who for a while pulled off a mommy-style interaction with trump as he tried to impress her with nifty genius like injecting bleach), are in a no-man's land, transitional between Asset and Target, in part because trump doesn't like attention on covid if he can help it.

We don't know exactly what trump will try to inflict on Mary trump for writing her book, but we've already seen a variety of attacks against Bolton, Kelly, and Michael Cohen, along with innumerable others. (It isn't just books. It's that these people did not keep flattering, and obey.)

He ousted from political power Jeff Sessions, Jeff Flake, Bob Corker (White House as "an adult day care center"), and Mark Sanford, of "the Appalachian Trail." He can do the same to any other individual Republicon, because as a group, they are all too backstabbing, dishonorable, greedy, and cowardly to unite against him.

Certainty we have seen trump's behavior with respect to Fox Gnus, the Clintons, and Obama.

This is the relationship this country cannot allow itself to fall into with trump. But how possibly to prevent it?

For that, we look to another category of trump's relationships.

4) The Survivors. Of those not in the Strongman category, there are few people who have survived relationships with Donald trump and who can get trump to do favors for them -- to do what they want.

It is dangerous idiocy to call them trump's "friends," by way of explaining their leverage and longevity. The key is leverage.

Rudy Giuliani :

- A "very, very good relationship" with trump.

- "I've seen things written like he's going to throw me under the bus. When they say that, I say he isn't, but I have insurance."

- "I do have very, very good insurance."

Giuliani's insurance is knowledge; some knowledge about trump gives him leverage. The leverage has to represent knowledge that trump fears exposure of or consequences for. Giuliani doesn't fear being otherwise loose-lipped, or even crazy, and his relationship with trump is currently letting him pull in $20,000 a day for "legal work."

Roger Stone :

"[trump] knows I was under enormous pressure to turn on him. It would have eased my situation considerably. But I didn't."

This leverage allowed Stone to openly demand clemency from trump regardless of any amount of political capital it could potentially cost.

The succession of wives, too, possess whatever personal knowledge, likely far more powerful than negotiated pre-nups and settlements, which ensure the notorious litigious deadbeat abides willingly by contractual terms.

As a nation, we need to survive trump. We have observed what works. But as a nation, we must address the issue of trump just a bit differently. Unlike Giuliani, Stone, or even Putin’s special holds over trump, we must:

1) Investigate trump extensively. Entirely. Turn him inside-out. And then,

2) Make the findings public. This is where a nation, a government of, by, and for the people in a country ruled by law and not kingdoms or cults, differs from defensive black-mailers or manipulative foreign spies.

This part, making public everything that doesn't actually threaten our national security to reveal, is necessary to harden both our resolve and our democracy, and to peel off whatever of trump's support that we can, and to deter the next trumpian assaults, whether by trump or the people who will try to follow the path trump has scorched into the fabric of our nation.

Public reveals are also a safety measure. There is vast potential for corruption otherwise. But then,

3) Keep every single trump-related criminal prosecution -- legitimate, of course, because we are not trump -- on the table. That is the leverage.

That's how to survive trump. There must be no more talk of how investigating a former *resident will turn us into a "banana republic." In a so-called banana republic, powerful government officials pressure others, either to carry out vendettas, or favors of protection by "looking the other way". Government is bent toward personal exploitations. Been there. Done that these past four years under trump and Republicons.

They have actually installed what can be termed "a deep state," notably for the first time, and sane Americans must know its extant. Fcuk their cries of victimization and oppression of the Right. The only difference is, when we investigate, there are actual violations, crimes, and scandals, with evidentiary proofs; when conservatives investigate, it's fundamentally bullsh*t-and-paranoia based.

A "banana republic" is exactly what we are attempting to rescue our nation from. With all the recognition that the Right has systematically unmoored from truth, and the terrible dangers that threaten as a result, from a stupid civil war born of propaganda, to climate devastation, as much truth as we can discover is what we need.

Knowledge is power. With trump out of the White House, we can get it. We must have it.

[libsterslobsters]

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

---------‐-----------------------------------

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

[smallpotatoknitwear]

WIP blanket update 6/05/21*

*The information in this post is outdated because I typed the whole thing up, saved it to my drafts to add links… and promptly forgot to do so 😅 I’ve actually finished the ten-stitch by now, and done work on a few others as well, including my Granny Square Quilt!

Hey, y’all! It’s been about two and a half months since I did a blanket update, but I’ve been doing a lot of work on some of them lately, trying to get as much done on the ten-stitch and granny stripe specifically before I go back to work in a week! My goal is to finish the ten-stitch before the 13th of June, but… we’ll see 😅 The reason I’ve been focusing so much on those two blankets specifically is because they’re not so transportable, so, while I am able to bring projects to work with me and work on them during breaks and downtime, I can’t exactly transport an entire, massive “worked in one piece” blanket like the ten-stitch or granny stripe with me. But smaller quilt-style or pieced afghans are a lot easier to transport, because I can throw a few balls/skeins/etc of yarn into my bag for the day and make a few pieces if I have time! Thankfully, 3/5 of the blankets on my to-make list ATM are pieced blankets—you can check out my “coming soon” blanket post to see what some of those are, but two of them are also introduced in this post!

Not pictured: Granny Square Quilt, because it’s still currently on pause, although I plan to start working on it again once I go back to work; Mitered Granny and Tilt-a-Whirl because I’ve finished them both! Stay tuned for individual posts about those two FOs!

Ten-Stitch (Knit)

As of these photos, I was about halfway through this blanket—I was around halfway through cake four, and I’m planning to use eight cakes total and then use the ninth to just finish up whatever edge I run out of the eighth cake on so that I don’t have a weird chunk missing out of it! Since I took these photos about a week ago (I’ve really been procrastinating on writing this post oops—) I’ve finished the fourth cake and have only a little left of the fifth cake! So, even if I don’t finish the blanket by 6/13 like I’d like to, I should be close and can hopefully get it done before work gets crazy again. As you can see, though, my little furry lady seems to like this blanket already! She used to sleep on it a lot before I had to move all my work back up into my room when my brother moved back into the basement, so I’m sure she’s looking forward to being able to sleep on it again when it’s finished!

Floral Beauty Throw

The last time I talked about this blanket, it was in my “coming soon” post. I decided to make a few test squares before starting the blanket itself, because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to use a US H or I size hook, so I made two squares with each size. The two on the left are with the H hook, and the two on the right are with the I hook. As you can see, there isn’t really much difference between them 😂 I plan to block them (the yarn has a wool content, so I’m going to have to soak rather than steam block, which makes me a little sad because steam blocking is so much easier) to make sure, but at this point I’m planning to use the I hook, and, if I can block all four to be close enough in size, I’ll probably just include the two H hook squares in the final afghan.

On the bright side, I won’t have tons of ends to weave in for this blanket, since the yarn is self-striping!

Total pieces: 4/30 (although I may do more squares depending on how my yarn gets used)

Granny Stripe Blanket

It may not look like it, but I’ve actually done a ton of work on this blanket recently! In my last WIP post, I had about 38 rows done—as of these photos, I have about 60 done! It’s officially gotten too long to double over for photos, and the width of it makes it really difficult to take top-down photos, so it’s hard to get good pictures of, but I really love how it’s turning out so far! I also love how the color pooling has been sort of bouncing from side to side the further I go! I can’t wait to see how it turns out!

Scrap Granny Triangle Quilt

I wasn’t planning on starting this blanket just yet—it’s going to be a good one for taking back to work—but I hit a point recently where I didn’t want to work on any of my WIPs so I decided to start this instead 😅 I’m really happy with how it’s going so far! I’m using scrap and leftover yarn for the triangles, and plan to do some mixing of textures in it. You can already see a bit of that here, as I’ve used some bits of fuzzy yarn, as well as some Caron Simply Soft scraps that have different textures than the worsted yarns I’ll be using for the majority of the blanket. I already know that I’ll have to pick up a few skeins to supplement my scraps, so I think I’m going to look for more of the turquoise/grey/white variegated yarn from those two triangles at the top left, as well as some different shades of purple and blue, keeping the red for more accent triangles rather than making it a main color of the blanket. There are a few things kind of bumming me out about this blanket, though—namely that I’m going to need a lot more triangles than I realized to make the blanket as big as I’d like to… and that it looks like I’m going to have to block every. single. triangle…

I’ve also tweaked the pattern slightly (check my coming soon post to see the photo pattern I’m using for reference) because I wasn’t able to neatly work the corners the way the pattern indicated they should be work, so you can see where my rows are joined in the middle of the triangle sides. I don’t mind this too much, though, and I think once the ends are woven in, and the whole thing is pieced together, they’ll be much less noticeable. Hopefully.

Total pieces: 15/225 (approx)

[eternalglitch]

Like Father Like Son: Chapter 3

Prologue Arc 1: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Mikey let out a small sound in the back of his throat, bending down to pick up the odachi by its hilt, hands shaking slightly. His reflection stared back at him, eyes wide and face a paler shade of green than was normal, pale enough that he could actually see his yellow freckles that oh so rarely showed up. “Guys?” he whispered. “Has Leo ever gone out without his weapon?”

Read it HERE on ao3.

Chapter Specific Warnings: no specific ones (please see the general ones listed in the prologue)

Chapter Three: All Green and Blue

“He’s not picking up. Why isn’t he picking up?!” Mikey demanded, looking up from his phone. The youngest couldn’t help but shift from foot to foot, a sort of buzzing energy from his anxiety making him want to move. Why couldn’t his brothers walk faster?

“Yeah, it is odd he wouldn’t answer either of us…” Donnie agreed, squinting at his wrist tech. “I can’t locate his phone’s location, either. It’s either out of battery or broken.”

Finally, Mikey thought with relief, Raph’s pace noticeably quickened, his brothers right on his heels. “Okay… okay. First, we’re gonna backtrack the possible routes to the pizza place, and then we’re going to check any place he could have ended up. Donnie?” The leader of the group glanced at the purple turtle, gaze expectant.

“On it, I’ll hack any nearby cameras and run a scanner through social media looking for buzzwords,” the technological prodigy replied, typing quickly. “I’ll compile a list of people that might’ve gone after him as well.”

“People that went after him?” Mikey asked, now even more nervous, his voice rising a pitch or two until it cracked completely. “You think the foot clan or Big Mama is behind this? What if they’ve hurt him?” Mikey reached out and clung to Donnie’s elbow, staring over at Donnie’s screen as stats whizzed by. The other turtle tolerated it, but didn’t stop typing to pat his shell or head. That was a sign things really were serious. “What if he’s all alone and scared or… or I don’t know! I can’t even begin to picture him being scared!”

“Again, Michael, I’m sure it’s really nothing, we’re just being thorough—“ Donnie finally started to reassure him, but his eyes never moved from the screen until a loud clatter rang out. Donnie froze, Mikey almost stumbling as he was also pulled to a sudden stop. They looked down.

Leo’s sword was lying, innocently forgotten, all alone on the sewer floor.

Mikey let out a small sound in the back of his throat, bending down to pick up the Odachi by its hilt, hands shaking slightly. His reflection stared back at him, eyes wide and face a paler shade of green than was normal, pale enough that he could actually see his yellow freckles that oh so rarely showed up. “Guys?” he whispered. “Has Leo ever gone out without his weapon?”

“I’m sure there’s a reason… or… or an explanation,” Donnie grasped at, but after he glanced at Raph, who shot him a panicked look, Donnie bowed his head, his eyes flicking back and forth as he thought.  

It was Raph who spoke next, his voice low and urgent. “If something did go down– someone must’ve been inside of the sewers– I’m not sure Leo even made it outside for the pizzas in the first place.” The eldest scratched his head, his expression slowly darkening.

“So they came here purposefully looking for us and somehow we didn't even notice them brothernap Leo from right here?” Mikey looked around at the ground, eyes flicking up and down the sewer walls like the name of the culprit would be left behind with a clean, neat note. He needed someone to tell him flat out that it was going to be okay, he realized weakly, hugging the sword close. Someone to crack a bad joke about the situation, or know what to say. He needed… he needed his brother.

“I’ll call April,” Raph said, phone already out. He already had her number pulled up as well, finger hovering over the green button to call. “We’ll need eyes in every possible place, including checking to see if this was on Leo’s way to or from the pizza place.”

“I now have generated the list of most likely suspects,” Donnie added, pulling up a screen that had a numbered list of the names of their many yokai nemeses. At the top of the list were the various yokai that constantly fought with them on the regular, and the list continued down until it ended with a Warren Stone, although Donnie must have added him just to be safe; in reality, Mikey barely remembered the guy. “It looks like the first name my algorithm came up with is those mutant crabmen we came across recently- apparently they sometimes linger in this area.”

Raph nodded, pulling his phone away from his tympanum and giving them a thumbs up. “April’s in,” he confirmed. The way he said it was heavy; the air shifted, and the panic is forced down until Mikey only has to concentrate on being efficient and focused. “Now, Mad Dogs; let’s move.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The floor framed between Leo’s hands was swimming; sweat dripped down and splattered onto the negative space that the floor was made up of, and he was dimly aware that his arms shook under the pressure of holding himself up. Get up, he told himself. Get up, you have to do something. Anything. Just get up, Leonardo.

“Get up,” Draxum echoed his sentiment, voice expectant.

The repeat was like a slap to the face; Leo could only lift his chin to stare at him, a bitter laugh being swallowed before it escaped his lips. Sure, he knew he needed to do that, but it seemed a bit ridiculous for the guy with the metaphorical big red button to ask him to as well. He had a concussion and had just been fried; what did Draxum expect him to do-

The collar let out a shrill buzzer sound, and Leo only had a split second to think what? before the collar lit up for a third time. His arms gave out and he hit the ground hard, and even though he knew what would happen if he screamed, he couldn’t help but do so anyways. The result was exactly as expected. His mouth felt dry.

“Don’t you think the shock’s intensity is too high, Boss?” one of the gargoyles asked from above him. Leo couldn’t see which one; stars danced in front of his hazy vision. “He looks kinda dead after just four zaps.”

“Yeah. And it’s probably going to take a lot of these shocks for it to sink in,” the other agreed. “He keeps making it worse.”

Draxum scoffed, and Leo flinched slightly at the sound, hands weakly rising to shield his head from any more attacks. “Well. I just set it to what he should be strong enough to take. It’s his own fault for being weak. He’s lucky; I don’t have the advanced setting on yet.”

Leo felt Draxum’s nails dig into his bicep as the yokai reached down and hauled him up to his feet, Leo swaying as he tried to lean away from the yokai. “Stay still,” Draxum ordered, and Leo bit down hard enough on his inner cheek he tasted copper, barely accomplishing the feat.

Draxum circled him, hands clasped behind his back. Leo’s head felt foggy, and he didn’t even bother watching Draxum; his head kept drooping forwards, like when he was watching Donnie’s favorite Jupiter Jim movie without Raph around to liven things up. Everything hurt so badly. His hands wrapped around himself and Leo shrunk a bit under Draxum’s assessment.

“You’re slower to catch on than I would have thought,” Draxum said after a moment. “But let me spell it out now, just for the sake of ‘fairness,’” he added with his fingers punctuating the last word with air quotes. “The collar has three things that you will be shocked for. Any vocalizations, or any failure to follow my exact orders as well as… well. I could always just order it to go off.” Leo flinched, his fists tightening. Was Draxum enjoying this? April had taught them the meaning of the word sadistic at one point, after their first prank day on her where no one had told her it was coming. And that was the only word Leo could think of at the moment when he glanced up and into Draxum’s eyes.

This was sadistic.

“It was quite the impressive invention, really,” he continued. “Somehow a simple shock collar had a complicated A.I. that understood the situation at hand enough to correct situational humor. Not to mention it didn’t even need to feel the vocal chords vibrating; it could be programmed to listen for a certain individual’s voice and go off regardless of if it was being worn or not. A bit overkill, if you ask me, but who am I to judge?” A smug smile crossed his lips. “Your brother must have felt quite strongly about this to have put so much work into fixing your flaws.”

He didn’t know anything, Leo told himself. Donnie was just like that, he had made his dorky and kind of insensitive gifts for everyone, he hadn’t been trying to single Leo out or anything. Of course not. Even if Mikey and Raph’s inventions hadn’t caused them any harm at all when they used them, just tried to prematurely stop them from doing it. Even if Leo and Donnie were the main two that squabbled, he never would have… Leo shook his head, one hand slowly rising to press against his forehead.

He couldn’t think like this, he needed to bounce his ideas off of someone for it to be useful. Had Dad ever taught him what to do in a situation like this? A quick scan through memories of Splinter handing him his first pair of swords, of noodle fights and throwing stars, and the only thing Leo could come up with was the advice “stay with your brothers. You will protect all of them, and they in turn will all protect you. And if you get separated, stay in one spot until we can find you.”

Yeah, great, but that advice had been from when Leo was seven. When Splinter had first let them wander a bit farther into the sewers to explore with just the four of them. This wasn’t getting lost in the sewers, this was- this was something more. He was starting to have to face the knowledge that this was something serious, even.

“Pay attention when I am speaking!” Draxum suddenly snapped, and Leo went rigid when the collar let out a low, almost inaudible chirp, his eyes darting down to where he could see the blue rim of the machine before back up to Draxum. The collar didn’t otherwise react, though, but Leo kept still, wondering when the proverbial shoe would drop. “How will I teach you anything if you keep zoning out?”

“It miiiiiight be the concussion,” Muninn offered, one hand on his chin. “We’ve seen a few guys get hit before, Boss, and they also had that spacey look to them.”

Draxum threw up his hands. “Well, he should learn to deal with that. Injuries are something to be powered through.” The yokai took a deep breath, and the two gargoyles dipped as his shoulders slowly became less tense. “But. Very well. Before I forget, a few rules,” he said, voice suddenly back to the flavor of ‘calm with an undertone of smugness.’ AKA the most punchable tone of voice Leo had ever heard. “No trying to escape from me.” The collar let out a soft beep and Leo winced. “No trying to take the collar off.” Another wince. “And, other than attacking, absolutely no contact with any other turtles.” What? That wasn’t- he couldn’t just do that. Leo opened his mouth, keen to argue, but Draxum just raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and waiting.

On second thought, Leo had nothing to say. His hands curled into tight fists.

“Excellent. And now that I have…” Draxum trailed off, pausing. He fixed Leonardo with a puzzled gaze. He leaned closer to Muninn, holding up one hand to loudly whisper to the gargoyle. “What was this one called, again?”

Muninn blinked, turning and glancing at Huginn, who shrugged back at him. “Uh… ha, wow, Boss, wait, you don’t know?” The gargoyle asked, chuckling nervously. “Didn’t you hand pick him, though?”

Draxum’s eyes widened, slightly flustered. “No! Well, yes. But…” All three villains turned and stared at Leo, who crossed his arms as he stared back at them, lifting his chin slightly in a challenge. This guy had been after them long enough to at least know their nicknames, he thought, somehow still finding it within him to be annoyed.

“Wasn’t it… Larry or… Lawrence?” Huginn weakly offered up, but Draxum rested his chin in one hand, thinking.

“No, it wasn’t that. What was it again…” Draxum trailed off, frowning.

Muninn suddenly perked up. “Hey, wait, why don't we ask him? Hey, turtle! What’s your name?” he yelled, and Leo felt one of his eyes twitch. He glanced down at his shock collar, and both gargoyles made little ‘oooooh’ sounds of understanding.

“That’s right, it was Green!” Draxum suddenly said, hitting his fist into the palm of his other hand. He smiled, brushing some of his hair over his shoulder. “I remember now, how silly of me to have forgotten.”

“What? But- but he’s the one wearing blue.” Huginn darted around Leo, pulling at the bandana tails behind his head. It was a light touch, but even just that made Leo sway, his arms having to slightly go forwards as he forced himself to stay standing. He didn’t know if he would be shocked again if he fell, but from the way black dots swam in Leo’s vision, he couldn’t afford to risk it. “I don’t know, Boss, I think his name would be Blue if he’s named after a color.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure of it,” Draxum declared as Leo weakly shooed the gargoyle away from him with one hand. “It was definitely Green. Besides, that’s but a small detail. I could call him whatever I wanted, really. More importantly, we need to decide how to go about making him my ideal warrior before any of the others show up.”

Leo flinched, one hand absently reaching up to rub at the collar. The skin underneath it already felt raw and uncomfortable; he wondered if it was going to leave scars.

He then wondered if he’d ever be able to even see if it had.

“Ooh, why don’t we inject him with some more ooze?” Muninn suggested, clasping both hands together excitedly, wings fluttering as he hopped slightly into the air. “That seems to make everything better! Think of the possibilities: spikes, a tail, and our personal favorite—”

“Fire-breathing!” The two gargoyles sung at the exact same moment.

“A tempting idea, but no,” Draxum said, shaking his head. “Physically speaking, his body is as good as I had hoped for, it’s the rest of it that’s the issue. Respect and obedience should come naturally with the aid of that collar, but as for training techniques…” Draxum circled Leo yet again; was he trying to make him dizzy enough to fall over? “With the level of sheer incompetence that I’ve witnessed, it would take far too long for me to train him myself from scratch. And I don't trust you two to be in charge of it, either…”

“Ouch, Boss,” Muninn said, one hand over his heart. “That really hurts.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Huginn flapped harder, shooting over to Draxum. “We actually know exactly how to do this! I mean, not to flex or anything, but Muninn and I did do our fair share of training in school.”

“Uh,” Muninn stammered, looking lost, but a quick elbow from Huginn and he blinked and also smiled at Draxum. “Yeah, absolutely. So…” he trailed off, shooting his friend a nervous glance.

“What faster way to train someone than to just give them a bunch of experience! You know, the good ole ‘learn as you do’ method!”  Huginn finished with a flourish.

“Hmm, you do have a point,” Draxum considered. He stopped walking. “Surprisingly.”

“Why thank you,” Huginn trilled, bowing.

Draxum’s gaze went back onto Leo, who couldn’t help but shrink away, hands nervously reaching up to hold onto the top of his plastron. “And that gives me the perfect idea…”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Draxum!” Raph bellowed, kicking open the door, Mikey and Donnie flanking him on either side. The turtle huffed, glancing around the lab as he searched for his target.

The third name on Donnie’s list had to be it, right? Surely. It had taken them far too long to hunt down the Sando Brothers and force them to tell them anything, and the next yokai they had tried had had similar results. April hadn’t found anything, either, but the pizzas had been paid for so… so…

Ugh! Raph couldn’t put these pieces together right now. He just needed to find his younger brother and save him from whatever mess he had found himself in this time.

There was the sound of slow clapping, and the sheep yokai appeared from around the column of ooze, one gargoyle perched on his right shoulder. “Well, well,” he greeted them, a smile on his face. “It’s quite rare for you turtles to come and seek me out. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Cut the cr—“ Donnie started to say, but Mikey beat him to it, bounding in front of his brothers. Raph almost reached out to pull him back, but he stopped himself; he understood Mikey’s point of view enough that he had also barged in, weapons ready to go.

“Where’s our brother, you creep?” Mikey demanded, his weapon already spinning in his hands.

“Ah,” the yokai replied, blinking at them. The gargoyle snickered softly, and Draxum glanced at it, some message passing between the two of them. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The way he said it- it was casual. Too casual. That was suspicious, right? Raph couldn’t possibly be the only one to think so. “You’re lying,” he snarled. “What did you do with Leo?”

The gargoyle perked up, about to say something, but Draxum covered it with one of his hands. “Really,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Whatever you silly children are accusing me of, I don’t have any involvement. Search my lab, if you must, but I’m in the middle of some very important experiments. I’d really rather not fight today; but I will, if you insist. That is,” and the yokai sneered at them, eyes flashing. “If you have that kind of time to waste. Whatever you’re up to, it sounds very... urgent.”

(Chapter Four –>) 

[ladyfl4me]

I know you like that good sweet worldbuilding, sooooo if you could add just one thing to amnesty canon, what would it be?

JUST ONE THING? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST YOU CAN’T DO THAT TO ME. THAT’S NOT FAIR. I’ll give you options and then, in a hypothetical universe, I’ll pick one and Make It So for amnesty canon. it’s almost 1:30 in the morning where i am rn, so bear with me.

If i may, for the first one, i would do a switch: i would remove the reconciliation in its entirety, and make the villain some sort of political intrigue/antagonistic force within Sylvain, making the light figures from there instead. I’m basically just spitballing all the things that I am going to do in TCOS here, but like. 

Okay, by keeping things centered on Sylvain, that would be a powerful thing to add. It could have been a possible domino for Griffin to push to do more Sylvain worldbuilding, and make them more fascinating as a society for the protagonists to interact with. Griffin called Earth and Sylvain sister planets, and then didn’t follow through on that connection at all, making it an artificial bond by fantasy space America trying to start a puppet war. Christ. You can’t reduce an entire planet down to one culture and set of political ideals. By making the villains have a more direct relationship to Sylvain, you might get a hell of a lot of nuance. 

That’s not to say i didn’t like the Reconciliation plotline; i think it was really thematically interesting and had a lot of symbolic weight. I just feel like it superseded a lot more interesting potential ones in Sylvain, which got abandoned. Like! The exiles thing! Dani canonically has parents and a brother-- what’s up with them? The drama surrounding that!  How do the councilmembers relate to each other? What are their individual politics? Alexandra’s dead fucking father - what kind of society puts a child  in charge, unless it’s a dire fucking emergency? What happened to her dad? What’s their technology like? Their culture? Their music? What has Sylvain done to try and stymie the quell in the past, before they got to where they are today? Why has that failed? A gateway to all of this could have been opened if Griffin had decided to make Sylvain as a whole more significant, and while the “these two forces are actually being threatened by a third greater power” thing is cool, i wasn’t entirely convinced.

And if i couldn’t remove the reconciliation, i would add this: there are other sylvan communities all over earth like the lodge. The lodge is a microcosm for a much bigger sociocultural migratory phenomenon that crosses galaxies. The two planets have been connected for centuries, if not millennia; you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me that there aren’t sylvan communities embedded near major geothermal hotspots the world over. 

“wait tin don’t they need energy to survive -” Barclay and Indrid had those crystals, and those kept them alive well enough. I specifically cite Indrid because that guy never once showed up at the hot springs for a dip, and seemed to be just fine living off his crystal - whereas the exiles who didn’t have a crystal had to make do with the springs. Like. Just imagine a whole society of crystal-wearing sylphs operating a society in the woods near a ski resort in Colorado, or a few miles from Yellowstone. Or a bunch of sylphs who’ve wired crystals to [throws dart] Manhattan’s power grid, and have created a gentle web of pseudo-sylvan energy over the whole city to give the sylphs and their descendants there sustenance. The idea of there being sylphs who were exiled to earth and formed their own communities - or sylphs who left lawfully and formed their own communities near gate locations, having children and settling on earth - is fascinating to me, and is completely in line with the lore griffin already has set out given how the gate travels.

I know you said just one thing, but i am still sitting here and thinking... If i wasn’t going to make it a worldbuilding thing, i would make it a character thing. I would dig the knife with stern to make him more of a developed character in arcs three through to the end - or at least make him more of a bad guy. I’ve talked about the “stern looks out the window during the post-arc-3 interlude, catches Boyd Mosche taking pictures of the lodge before his meetup with Ned, intercepts him, makes the mistake of hearing him out, and teams up with him in a quid pro quo effort to take down Ned in exchange for shade tree” AU at LENGTH. It is one of my favorite Amnesty AU concepts to think about. I still think that those two would be an absolute villainous powerhouse if they’d met in canon. (i have my own thoughts about them, related to the versions that show up in TCOS and TMWCIFTC, that i’ve been sitting on for longer than I’d care to admit, but, well. That’s for another time. Yes that’s an invitation to ask me to yell abt it if you’d like, their development in TCOS has taken a fucking U-turn that i’ve been excited about for a while and i like talking about my fic lskdjlskdjf) 

But if not that, I would probably just make Stern quit the fucking FBI, man. Idk what to tell you, the only good cops are the ones that quit and the fact that he stayed an FBI agent, with a team there observing the gate, and was implied to be rewarded with a romantic relationship with his former prey, never sat right with me. I could accept it if he left the FBI and was shown to try and make up for his mistakes. Four good deeds for every bad, and all that jazz. But alas.

I know i listed three things but hey, these would not all be implemented simultaneously. It’d just be one. So it still kind of counts! A lot of this bitching boils down to the fact that Amnesty-the-story and Amnesty-the-DND-roleplay-podcast are not necessarily the same level of quality in my head; as an overarching story, I think Amnesty might have worked better as a TV show or book series, in terms of its narrative, even though the TTRPG aspects of its execution were awesome. A lot of things I would want to add would suit this podcast as a Balance-length epic or a piece of textual narrative literature, not necessarily a podcast. Sorry for the long answer, it is 1:30 am and i just think a lot about the holes in amnesty meta and What Could Have Been because my specific AU bread and butter is trying to patch them lsjdflksjdf

ask me anything! all asks will be answered

[parf-fan]

Hello! I'm going to the faire in fifteen days (I AM SO FREAKING EXCITED) and I was wondering what shows there are not to miss this year? I already know I'll be at all of the jousts, queen's court, and finale, but was wondering if there are any other shows that I shouldn't miss?

AAAAAAAAAAA I AM SO EXCITED FOR YOU TO BE BACK!!

First off, I suggest going both days of the weekend if you’re able.  In order to thin out attendance at any given show, they’ve structured the schedule so that most super cool performances are competing with some other super cool performance.  For example, Disasterpiece is at the same time as one of the two in-house music groups this year.  Likewise, Teatime is at the same time as the other in-house music group.  All four of these acts are right before a Joust, meaning that you will have to leave one early in order to get to the other on time, or risk being late for the other.

My personal recommendations?  Well, as you said, Queen’s Court is a must.  And be sure to get there in time for the whole thing, pre-show and all, because to be quite frank, the pre-show is generally more entertaining than the main show, or at the least as entertaining.  I don’t believe that there is anything resembling Boons and Favours this year, so there’s not even anything competing with it.

Just after Queen’s Court is the Gaming Joust, which is an innocent joust in which nothing goes wrong (as far as I know), and is thus not a plot show, which is something to be aware of.

I am notorious for caring very little about out-of-house acts at PARF as compared to in-house acts, with a few exceptions.  The archetype of this exception, Rowan and the Rose, is not present this season.  However, the other duo of which Rowan Thorn (Arthur Rowan, head writer) is a part, Two Bard Party, is, in fact, there this season.  Now, I don’t know whether you’re going the weekend of the 10th and 11th, or the 17th and 18th, because I wasn’t looking at my askbox often enough to be able to tell when this arrived.  If you’re going the 17th and 18th, you may be out of luck as far as Two Bard Party goes, as that is the one weekend they are listed on the website as not being present.  But the Daily Writ for that weekend does list them, so plans might have changes and website not updated, which would be on-brand.  Regardless, I recommend this group most highly.  Geeky folk music at its finest.  Rowan in particular has an incredible knack for writing songs about very specific things in specific stories and telling them so well and with such good music (often courtesy of the group’s other member, Randal Piper) that one does not need to know a damn thing about the subject of the song to be completely blown away by it.  If they’re present your weekend, super duper mcfreaking recommend.

Whose Jest Is It Anyway was my favorite non-plot show back in 2012 and 2013, and I never quite forgave them for getting rid of it (well, the real issue was the lack of an improv-track show through which to get to know those characters, and that was solved with the introduction of Disasterpiece, but the point still stands).  But now it’s back!  It’s a half hour of short-form improv, somewhat filtered through characters, and it’s just a lot of fun.

For something quiet and small, Mags Cockburn at the picnic grove is lovely.

I definitely enjoy the music of the out-of-house group Wine and Alchemy, and my mom enjoys it even more, but their fusion world music doesn’t seem to be for everyone.  Or maybe the masses just don’t care about music in languages they can’t understand.

Judging by the timing of your move from PA, the show you’re likely least familiar with is probably Disasterpiece, although that’s surely not giving you and your youtube-watching enough credit.  If you haven’t watched any previous Disasterpieces, here’s a handy playlist of all the ones that made it on the magical Tube of You.  It’s the spiritual successor to Rumple’s tragic backstories, taking a modern story that’s at least moderately well known and adapting it for a half-hour slot in Faire-style telling, but with an added element of everything going wrong.  This is the show that, starting in 2018, fixed the issue of a lack of shows through which to gain an understanding of the improv track characters.  In 2019, it also had an overarching plot throughout the season, which was SO COOL, but of course the individual performances could still be appreciated as one-offs.  There’s an overarching plot this year, too, and videos of these shows can be found on the parf-fan facebook (because I haven’t gotten to cross-posting them on here yet, and I’m not putting ‘em on youtube until my previous years are all up because I will NOT be mucking about with chronology and organization in such a manner on that platform).  Really super duper hecking recommend.

At the same time as Disasterpiece is Mags to Rich’s, the in-house asterisk group this year.  It’s a duo, and if you’ve ever enjoyed an in-house asterisk group recently, you’re sure to enjoy this.  I’ve only seen them once, because same time as Disasterpiece, but I wish I were able to see it more.  If I were able to go more than one day a weekend, I would.  Jules and Leigh Ann are so good.

Variety Royale is the Chess stand-in, and a good show for witnessing interaction between the characters.  It’s an in-universe competition between a bunch of out-of-house acts, largely non-musical, and the lineup changes weekly.  It’s enjoyable, though I do usually feel a little nervous about proximity, as there’s little else going on at the time to thin out the patrons.

Teatime is a MUST.  It’s Sir William Pickering as portrayed by Jonathan Handley and Sir Walter Roderick Kensington as portrayed by Alex Stompoly sitting on Swashbuckler stage throwing shade and talking shit for thirty minutes.  It is GLORIOUS, it is HILARIOUS, it GIVES ME LIFE, and I love them so much.

At the same time is Music With Her Majesty, the other in-house music group.  I have not yet attended this show, more’s the pity, because Teatime is different every week, and I want to film it as much as possible.  But I know the group is wonderful, for two reasons.  Once, they’ve performed at Finale in Pub Song a couple times, and have been excellent.  Two, they’re a in-house music group at PARF, which means the OF COURSE they’re excellent and highly enjoyable, that’s how that works!

Ultimate Joust is also a little nerve-wracking as far as proximity goes, and I’ve thus only attended twice.  I’d very much like to go a little more, though, because it is Absolutely Necessary to the plot and character stuff this year, but in a completely different way than is usually is.  I’m not saying anything else, but you really do have to experience it.

And of course, the closing show, which I have been calling Finale in Pub Song, which has not been catching on which is some serious bullshit because hello it’s perfect.  As my name for it indicates, it is a blend of the Pub Sing (which I have never experienced personally before, as it takes place at the same time as Ultimate Joust, and I’ll wager you’ve never experienced it either for the same reason, so here’s a channel the content of which is approximately half Pub Song) and Finale in Song.  It is not the traditional Finale as we know it, with a host(s) from the cast and an overarching theme or conflict (NOT THAT THERE WAS AN OVERARCHING THEME OR CONFLICT AT ALL EVER IN 2019 FOR SOME UNFATHOMABLE GODFORSAKEN REASON WTF) that changes every week.  Rather, it is hosted by the Musicians of the Shire, and closely resembles Pub Sing, but does have a few non-music out-of-house acts, and sometimes an in-house music group, too.  I do like traditional Finales as we think of them more that this, but this makes sense for the season, and is certainly enjoyable.

Pro tip, after Finale in Pub Song ends, just hang around in the audience are a for a while until the exiting crowd thins.  Otherwise, six feet will be utterly impossible.

If you let me know specifically which day you’re attending (probs via messaging), I can tell you what I’ll be wearing and you can come say hi to me if you want.  I would love that!  You’re the only other Faire youtuber who seems to care about main season plot, and your videos have filled an important and specific niche, and I appreciate them so much, and also ur tumblr is cool.

[mariisseething]

Analyzing Hero Costumes: Girls of Class 1-A

My obsession has spiraled out of control. Let me roast analyze these babes. I’m dumb. I’m tired. I’m gay. Let’s do this.

Warning: I’m a cynical, lazy-ass critic with no consistent taste. Don’t expect a fair analysis.

(This is just for fun, please don’t get mad at me for being an undereducated weeb! I went into writing this with only the knowledge I’ve obtained through watching the show and reading the manga. I don’t know everything about the costumes, and I don’t want to either)!

Ashido Mina (Pinky)

Babe, imma be frank here.

I love her, but—

that shit ugly.

Funcionality: Mina’s quirk (Acid) comes from her hands and feet. If I remember correctly, she has passages in her shoes that her...foot..acid.....can pass through, and her hands are fully exposed. So her costume is “practical”, and works with her quirk.

Design: As I said before, that shit ugly. The body suit has the worst pattern and color combination I’ve ever seen. (Like if Sully from Monster’s Inc. was turned into a cow and hated it). Her tiddies should be popping out any second now, which isn’t great. Her weird armpit vest with it’s stupid fluffy collar is quite reminiscent of Hawks’ jacket, which leads me to believe that their costumes were made by the same designer. (Many of the designers in the BNHA universe put calling-cards in their costumes). Her white mask is pointless, but at least it matches the fluff on her collar. Her boots, though they have a purpose, are ugly as sin. The pale yellow doesn’t match any other piece in the ensemble, and the Dabi-scar colored purple makes me sad. Hate that.

Total Score: 2/10

Her costume does almost nothing to enhance her quirk, and it’s hideous. The only reason it got two points was because of the shoe holes, and the possibility that it’s connected to my boy Hawks.

Seriously, this is some Seasame Street lookin-ass bullshit.

No hate on Mina, she’s lovely, but her taste is atrocious. (see: her bedroom).

Asui Tsuyu (Froppy)

Okay, okay bitch I see you.

I’m here for this.

Funcionality: Tsu’s quirk (Frog) requires a decent amount of flexibility from clothing. Spandex works for that I guess. Normally, I would automatically fail this costume for having goddamn toe “socks”, but for Tsuyu they’re nessecary. Having her individual toes chiseled out helps her grip onto shit when she’s kicking ass. It looks like her gloves are attached to her body suit, which is rad, but I’m not sure what the purpose of that waist belt-thing is. If anything, the chunky pieces of her costume would make it harder for her to swim. I also have no fucking clue what that head piece is. I once thought they were like binoculars or something, but she’s never put them on her face so...they wouldn’t fit....on her face..huh.....I’m so stupid bro.

Design: Lets start with a positive, the color scheme slaps. Everything goes together, and the dark green even matches her hair. The bodysuit has a cool structure, and I can definitely appreciate the slight turtleneck and boot-esq feature; however, the chunky wrist pieces, belt, neck/chest-thing, and head piece confuse me. I guess they’re there for fashion, gutter fashion. Shitty crap face fashion. Ugly butthole fashion. FILTH! I need to calm down holy shit—

Total Score: 6/10

The look honestly only lost points for the random ass statement pieces. Water terrains are Tsuyu’s specialty, and a clunky outfit would certainly slow her down underwater.

The toe shit, turtleneck, thigh-high “boots”, and color scheme are pretty dope though.

(Also, she only has three toes but frogs have four).

(My Hero Academia: Cancelled).

Hagakure Toru (Invisible Girl)

So, here’s the real question.

Is she naked?

Short answer: I dunno.

Funcionality: So she’s invisible, right? A good costume would emphasize that. I can only assume she wears the boots and gloves for comfort and so her allies can see where she is. If she wants to go full invisible, she just has to take them off. At one point, it was confirmed that she was topless during the sports festival, but we’ve had no further updates on her costume. A few people have theorized that her costume is made of her hair (assuming she has hair). We know that this is possible, as Mirio’s costume is made of his hair so he can remain clothed while his quirk is activated. The only issue would be making an outfit out of something you can’t see. If I were Toru, I would choose to fight nude because, I-uh...hmm, I-I can do what I want SHUT UP!

Design: There’s not much to critique here. The shade of blue on her gloves is cute, and the pink stripes don’t make much of an impact. The shoes are just about the most boring thing I’ve ever seen, like why are they beige??? What are they supposed to match? I just—ugh, beige??? What the fuck Horikoshi...smh.

Total Score: 5/10

Since we don’t know if the “hair-costume” thing is canon, I can’t rate it any higher. If that is true, it would be an 7/10. The outfit does its job, but I’m bored and beige sucks.

(Btw I don’t trust her...)

(Sketchy chick right here).

(Sketchy chick with some ugly-ass beige shoes).

Jirou Kyouka (Earphone Jack)

Aww.

She’s cute!

Look at her little face, d’awwwweeeeee!

Funcionality: The lovely Kyouka’s quirk (Earphone Jack), makes absolutely no sense to me. Like, I get that she can hear better and can eavesdrop really well, but how does she...make loud noises??? With the speakers??? Plugging earbuds into a speaker doesn’t make............noise, and the speakers aren’t part of her body. Whatever, back to the analysis. The speakers on her hands and calves amplify sound somehow, and her earlobes are exposed. It’s works.

Design: The speaker boots are basic, but acceptable. She’s got some comfy looking black pants, and a trendy salmon-colored top. Her jacket is iconic, and she’s wearing a choker. (+1,000,000 points for that). The white gloves don’t match shit, but they’re fingerless so I’ll let it slide. Her headphones almost match....meh. I don’t care. (+10 for the face paint).

Total Score: 8/10

Listen, I’d give her a 10 but this costume just isn’t....gimmicky, enough for me? She’s a superhero for fucksake! Now’s the time to dress your goddamn best! The look is practical, and seems to be her taste, I just disagree with her choices. Sue me. I’d either wanna fight in the wackiest most dangerous getup you’ve ever seen, or completely naked. Either way, I’m getting arrested. Jirou needs to get on my fucking level.

Uraraka Ochaco (Uravity)

I don’t know boys,

it seems like she might be...

round.

Fuck sharp angles!

Funcionality: Ochaco’s quirk (Zero Gravity) only requires her hands to work. More specifically, her fingertips. Uh, yeah those are some nude fingertips. *Ahem* moving on. Actually wait, since she often uses her quirk on herself it would be helpful for her to eliminate as much extra weight as possible, so I’m hoping that all of the accessories are hollow. They better be, or I’m gonna start throwing hands with Kohei Horikoshi.

Design: When Ochaco first got her hero costume she was surprised by how tight it was, even saying that it wasn’t supposed to be that tight. Bitch, how could it have been loose? I don’t...fuck it. I like the colors, I like the boots a lot actually, but who cares about that, I wanna talk about her fucking chastity belt. Who she keepin out? (Jesus Christ she’s a child, tone it down Mari). Do you think it’s comfortable to walk around with a chunk of plastic on your crotch?! I don’t know, seriously, is it? Maybe she’s trying to hide something...a hip dip perhaps?! Jk hip dips are stupid, that’s how bones work, don’t be ashamed. Her wrist...spheres... have handles on them, no comment, and whereas I usually LOVE chokers—that one is stupid and I hate it. Curvy little shit.

Total Score: 8/10

I like it overall, but some things are just too strange to overlook. (i.e. the chastity belt, wrist cuff handles, and the ugly choker). This costume doesn’t really scream Uraraka to me either. It’s a bit unoriginal to me.

I just don’t love it.

(Why are her fists clenched? Is she trying to fight? I could snap her like the twig she is and steal her girlfriend).

(Assuming she has one).

Yaoyorozu Momo (Creati)

Oohooohohohoho

hooohohoho

hoooooo mAN do I have some WORDS for this one!

Funcionality: Momo’s quirk (Creation) does require quite a bit of skin to be exposed, but I’m not sure why that skin HAS to be her boobs. She’s got thighs, a stomach, a back, an upper chest, and arms. Why do her Russian nesting dolls have to come out of her tiddies??? Okay, actually, she doesn’t make that many things with her tits. So....why’re they out? This costume definitely lets her quirk run wild, maybe too much.

Design: The red is pretty, and I can tolerate the sandy yellow. Her shoes are unimportant, so let’s just gloss over those. Now, WHAT is that thing? A makeshift, tan colored, plastic tube mini...skirt? I know she has a shelf on her ass that she carries books on, but doesn’t she have a cellphone? Google? Can’t she just remember the molecular make-up of a cannon? (Because she only makes cannons now for some reason). Have we ever even seen her reading those books? Can she read? A large portion of her midsection/chest is exposed up to another one of those weird chest pieces and a neck jacket. Maybe she should cut the neck coat off and glue it to her tiddies.

Total Score: 1/10

Listen, Horikoshi clearly understands what Momo’s costume needs, but he has no idea how to make that. This outfit IS inappropriate, no matter how you look at it. She’s a minor, and I don’t like the idea that she’s running around 75% naked. The only part of this that I like is the shade of red. That’s not good.

I really like Momo, she’s a good character, it’s unfortunate that we have to sexualize her so much. Can’t girls just be smart without also being eye candy for creepy 30 year old weebs?

——————

That’s it for this analysis. I plan on posting more stuff like this since I enjoy writing it so much! You should totally follow me so you don’t miss my future ramblings! 💖

Unless you hated it.

I wouldn’t blame you.

[mrsspidermanmaryjanewatsonparker]

Over the years I’ve heard endless discussion about Mary Jane and more specifically how she should or should not be written. I think a very influential voice in those discussions comes from the author of ‘Why did it Have to be You Mary Jane’, a three part essay series that pretty comprehensively examines Peter and MJ’s history leading up to their wedding in order to rebuttal the anti-marriage sentiments from Marvel.

That same author in other places has even discussed how MJ works when she is written ‘correctly’. ‘Correctly’ according to him is when she is written goofy. To quote him.

MJ has always worked best when she’s a bit goofy and off the wall, needing to be brought back to the center, because that way she contrasts nicely with Peter’s overly serious nature and “I’ve got the burdens of the world on my shoulders” personality, and thus she helps bring him back to the center as well.

Someday I plan to dive into certain parts of that essay series that are…well off shall we say, but that’s for another time.

On another occasion I’ve heard a group of fans look at 2 very different 90s Spidey comics and discuss (among other things) MJ’s depiction within them. The comics in question were Spec #184 and No Adj #18. In the former MJ is loving and supportive towards Peter and in the latter she is argumentative and bickering. The individuals discussing the stories spoke about how the comics raise the question about how MJ should be written.

I’ve equally seen endless shade (from proponents and opponents of MJ, the marriag, etc) throw shade of some variety against Mary Jane ‘waiting by a window’, nagging at Peter or disliking him being Spider-Man in some variety. Hell I’ve even seen people complain about her going out dancing with during the marriage, usually with the qualifier of her dancing ‘with other men’.

As a rule of thumb I think people prefer or treat JMS’ portrayal of the Spider-Marriage as how it ‘should’ be written. And I love that portrayal don’t get me wrong, but I don’t agree that’s how it SHOULD be done inherently nor do I agree with the lowkey implication from the proponents of that take that the other takes, like in the 90s, were ‘wrong’.

I’m not going to pick apart each of these takes individually or look at the context of the specific issues they were discussing. Rather I want to take a broader approach.

The question is which of these renditions of Mary Jane work/don’t work. Or if you like, how should Mary Jane be written.

My response is…they can all work.

And by that I don’t mean in theory a writer could pick one of these renditions and commit to it as MJ’s defined personality or role, much in the way Aunt May works knowing Peter is Spider-Man or alternatively works dead like after ASM #400.

No I mean all these different ways to write MJ can all work as part and parcel of the same character. And indeed have…for 50+ years!

Mary Jane isn’t Mickey Mouse (though she is owned by him). She doesn’t have at best 2 moods at any given time, she isn’t simplistic.

This was even THE POINT of all the Marvel characters when they were created. Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko, et al were trying (albeit not always succeeding) to create superhero characters with more dimensions, people who weren’t just good because it was the right thing to do or else paragons of virtue (or vice if you were villains). Whilst that originally just applied to the heroes with villains and supporting characters remaining fairly simplistic there were exceptions. Doctor Doom and Norman Osborn for example were villains written with at least a bit more layers to them. And as many writers (like Gail Simone) and historians (like Tim Hanley) have assessed, Mary Jane was an exception amidst Silver Age supporting characters, especially female ones.

And she grew more dimensions over the years.

And whilst I’m absolutely not saying there is no ‘incorrect’ way to write Mary Jane *glaresatSlott* there is also absolutely no singular ‘correct’ way, let alone a ‘default’ setting for her.

She’s a (relative representation of a) human being. So she has ups, downs, moods, good days and bad days, and those are going to change in response to the situations presented.

The keys to success are:

a)      Recognizing the right emotion to go with regarding the situation in question. E.g. if someone is dying she’s probably not going to be cracking jokes.

b)      Moderation, variety and balance. That is to say it’s not inherently bad to have Mary Jane wait by a window, or argue with Peter, or take umbrage with him being Spider-Man SOMETIMES! Those are both in character and entirely realistic human reactions for her to have.*And as much as us shippers might love portrayals more in line with Spencer or JMS’ takes on MJ or her relationship with Peter the fact is it’s similarly reductive if she was only ever portrayed that way in most Spider-Man stories. You need both, these guys are supposed to be well rounded characters!

c)       Good execution. I know that’s rather easy to preach and harder to practice, but it’s nevertheless true. After all JMS’ run gets all the love when it comes to the portrayal of Peter/MJ’s relationship and it pulled MJ ‘waiting by a window’ more than once. Kraven’s Last Hunt even did this. Compare and contrast with like Terry Kavanagh though and you see the difference.

The problem with b) and c) in MJ’s broader history is that in the 90s the rule of the day was style over substance/quantity over quality; there were for example a minimum of FOUR monthly Peter Parker Spidey titles back then! So good execution and moderation suffered a whole Hell of a lot because writers were just desperately trying to generate content and do it on time. They either lacked the time to execute scenes well (this applied to non-MJ scenes too btw) and or ideas for MJ got reused in a mad dash for content, hence MJ waited by a window, or nagged Peter about being Spider-Man or wore lingerie because those were the simplest and quickest way writers could tick off including her. Plus this mad dash for content led to many unskilled writers getting gigs to plug in holes in the schedule, which is why so many Spidey minis and one shots are bad.

What I’m trying to say with all this is that all these takes, all these portrayal and all these uses of MJ are valid. They’re just part of the same multidimensional character.

*Hell Peter himself often doesn’t want to be Spider-Man or tries retiring, so why does MJ get shit for on occasion wishing he would not risk his life?

[carolinesbookworld]

tagged by @kabeswaters and @swellwriting <3

on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? 0

describe yourself in a hashtag? very similar to @fortisfiliae #stressedanddepressed

if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? Harrison Osterfield

if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? prepare for disaster

what’s one thing people don’t know about you? um...idk my boyfriend knows basically everything about me sooooooo

what’s your wake up ritual? wake up, turn off alarm (bc with this at-home learning stuff i’ve been waking up like literally 1 min before my alarm goes off???), text good morning to my bf, snapchat, discord bc moonlit fam talks allll night, tumblr, get out of bed, wash face, get dressed, coffee and breakfast it’s very specific

what’s your go to bed ritual? wash glasses and face bc my skin is soo oily by the end of the day so you best believe my glasses be needing washing everyday, shower, say goodnight to fam, text bf for like 15 mins or until he says goodnight, turn alarm on, plug in phone, go to sleep

what’s your favorite time of day? morning but specifically from 7:30 until 9  

your go to for having a good laugh? FRIENDS as in the show

dream country to visit? Australia bc my dad once got to hold a baby koala there and i wanna do that so bad

what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? so my family moved before my sophomore year so me and my bff started trying to surprise each other whenever one of us came to visit and the weekend of my birthday, she skypes me as she’s walking around what i thought was her house and then i start hearing an echo and next thing i know she’s standing in the doorway of my room and that was pretty much the best surprise ever

heels or flats/sneakers? sneakers converse

vintage or new? new but i love vintage aesthetic i just couldn’t live with it

who do you want to write your obituary? karli @swellwriting bc she is my brain twin and i would be mocking her horrible grammar and spelling from my grave and we would both get a good laugh about it in the afterlife

style icon? the mom i babysit for haha she’s like one of my best friends tho which sounds really weird but it’s true

what are three things you cannot live without? books, dogs, days that are exactly 65 degrees

what’s one ingredient you put in everything? um idk chocolate??

what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? Sarah J. Maas, Eddie Redmayne, my boyfriend bc i haven’t had dinner with him for 47 days

what’s your biggest fear in life? losing the people i love...and spiders

window or aisle seat? window bc aisle makes me anxious that i’m in people’s way

what’s your current tv obsession? the cw’s nancy drew it’s so good please go watch it

favorite app? instagram, discord, or tumblr, depends on my mood

secret talent? um idk i can draw very realistic portraits of people when i take the time to

most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? okay so technically this wasn’t me who did it but i was part of the adventure. when me and my boyfriend were just “friends” ie. liked each other and knew we liked each other but were too scared to admit it. anyway, we had this elaborate plan to shave our youth group leader’s head if we were able to bring in a certain amount of food for the food drive during vbs week. so yeah we spent like three days planning the whole thing out and then decided to go price shopping at walmart with all of our younger siblings bc we needed supervision or something lol to see how many individual things of food we could buy with $20 each we ended up just getting like 20 huge boxes of ramen and then his sister ended up throwing up so we took her home and then went back to church where my car was parked but instead of turning to get to church my boyfriend decides to go straight through the stop light (it was green okay) and spontaneously drive up into the foothills. well we get to the top of the foothills and we’re at the lake and we all get out to look at the city and my boyfriend claims that we need to document this moment so he takes a selfie with all of us and we somehow ended up right next to each other in it and i only found this out like three months ago (this happened back in june) that he only took the picture because he wanted one of us together in case we didn’t start dating lol so sweet and yeah, that was a very long story but i needed context instead of just saying “yeah we drove up a mountain”

how would you define yourself in three words? loyal, anxious, passionate

favorite piece of clothing you own? this dark coral dress that makes my eyes and hair look really pretty

a must have clothing item that everyone should have? a hoodie

a superpower you would want? i want to be able to project my thoughts into someone else’s mind bc i’m so bad at explaining stuff sometimes especially when it comes to how i feel

what’s inspiring you in life right now? ACOTAR series by Sarah J. Maas, highly recommend

best piece of advice you’ve received? opening up to more than one person is important because if you lose that person then you’ve lost all your support

best advice you’d give your teenage self? the friends who have stuck around this long are the ones you want to hang onto and the ones that you need are the ones you don’t always see

a book everyone should read? The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

what would you like to be remembered for? being a crazy dog mama

how do you define beauty? confidence in yourself and not caring what others think about you

what do you love most about your body? my metabolism

best way to take a rest/decompress? open a window to feel the breeze and listen to Islands by Hey Ocean! which is so calming to me

favorite place to view art? nature or tumblr

if your life was a song, what would the title be? we’re going with a fob/p!atd theme here and calling it “depression screwed me over so i screwed it back and ended up worse off”

if you could master one instrument, what would it be? piano

if you had a tattoo, where would it be? probably on my forearm or by my left hip

dolphins or koalas? koalas did i mention that i want to hold a baby koala

what’s an animal that represents you? great dane puppy ie. very excitable but will also take a four hour nap when tired

best gift you’ve ever received? my best friend made this photo collage for me when i moved that is hanging in my room and it has a bunch of pictures of me and her over the years and i just love it

best gift you’ve given? for christmas i gave my boyfriend a hammock and the bookshelf addition of clue, two things he had no idea i would remember him mentioning and his face was priceless. also i made my mom a cake for her birthday this year and she was so happy and said it made her feel very special <3

what’s your favorite board game? clue or ticket to ride (specifically nordic countries)

what’s your favorite color? currently a pale turquoise

least favorite color? any shade of light brown

diamond or pearls? diamonds

drugstore makeup or designer? drugstore bc i don’t wear makeup enough to validate buying designer, also i don’t really care

pilates or yoga? yoga

coffee or tea? coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee cof-

what’s the weirdest word in the english language? palindrome is wild because it means a word spelled the same way forwards and backwards but it itself is not one such word

dark chocolate or milk chocolate? milk

stairs or elevators? stairs

summer or winter? summer but like, only june

you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? panera mac n cheese

a dessert you don’t like? red velvet cake which btw is not red-colored chocolate cake as many would have you believe

a skill you’re working on mastering? writing

best thing to happen to you today? i got to put all of my new plants in my windowsill and i named one of them (its name is albert in case you were wondering)

worst thing to happen to you today? idk today’s been pretty good as far as quarantine goes

best compliment you’ve ever received? my boyfriend calls me beautiful all the time and he always reminds me that that is describing looks and personality

favorite smell? coffee or my boyfriend’s sweatshirt for the week after i steal it

hugs or kisses? can i choose both?? depends on my mood mostly but i guess hugs if i just had to pick one

if you made a documentary, would it be about? literally anything relating to the mcu

last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? a court of wings and ruin by sjm

lipstick or lipgloss? lipstick

sweet or savory? sweet

girl crush? literally any female in the teen wolf cast

how do you know you’re in love? hahahaha haha what's love

a song you can listen to on repeat? we fall apart by we as human or uma thurman by fob

if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? idk my boyfriend probably, this is something we have discussed in depth

what are you most excited for/about this time in your life? for life to go back to normal

tagging @finnofamerica @woakiees @beskarjedi @outerlacy @swanimagines hahahahaha have funnnnn this took me an hour to answer

[heartofsnark]

Black Market Wonderland (Chapter Four): The Game is Not Played Alone

Notes: We get some Eisuke POV in this one, which hopefully doesn’t suck. Pov switches wont be like extremely common, but I do want to do them when I think it benefits the plot or just to occasionally switch it up. If it’s really jarring or off putting to have two different POV’s in one chapter, let me know. Again, thank you to everyone commenting, giving feedback and enjoying it. I’m glad you all like my  little disaster bean Tsuneko. Also, lowkey scared Soryu is OOC here because things...escalate.

Word Count: 13228 (I’ve notice word counts are off between AO3 and my program, sorry about that, WPS Writer is a bit fucky of a program.)

Warnings: POV Switches, Fat Shaming/Body Shaming, Masturbation (it’s me dudes, someone had to nut eventually), Cis-Female Masturbation, Sex Toy, Bath Masturbation, Panic Attack, Threats of gun violence (Soryu is such a gem), Suicidal thoughts

Missed the last chapter? Link Here!

Eisuke waits in the lounge, trying to get work down on his tablet while he waits for Ota to finish. He’s forcing Tsuneko to work as his assistant at an event tonight, this doesn’t qualify for the bet, which she was quick to point out to him. But, it will give him some opportunities to see how useful she can be. He doesn’t lose and this will be no exception.

She’s intriguing that’s for sure, challenging him to a bet for her freedom. This is to her detriment of course, he probably wouldn’t be so determined to keep her if she was boring. It’s been a long time since he’s had such an interesting toy. She was right when she said there’s no practical reason to keep her around, but she’s become a source of amusement. Once he’s won the bet he might keep her around a while longer, just until he gets bored of her.

“Finished,” Ota yells out as he enters the lounge, noisy as ever, and Tsuneko is following close behind.

“Seriously can we talk about this dress?” She’s complaining as usual and gesturing towards her chest. When she tried it on in store she was wearing a blazer over it to make it more modest, but this works well on her too. The simple colors and silhouette keep it from looking too trashy with the amount of cleavage on display.

“It looks gorgeous on you, princess,” Baba tells her, his eyes linger on her chest. The only one of them not paying attention to her cleavage is Soryu who’s making a point to look anywhere else.  

“Look, I don’t know how Kenzaki does his job, but I don’t think having my tits out is a part of assistant work.”

“Pfft, not bad,” he finally gives comment, “at the very least your outfit won’t embarrass me.”

“Oh yes, ‘cause I’d hate to make your life more difficult.”

She rolls her eyes and he’s caught between wanting to scowl and grin. It’s rare anymore to find people who can so shamelessly talk back to him, who don’t seem afraid of upsetting him, but she has a habit of pushing her luck. While entertained, he doesn’t want to tolerate any disobedience. It’s a weird place she puts him in and maybe that’s why he’s so intrigued by her.

“We’re leaving now, hurry up.” He stands from his seat and leaves the lounge, heading towards the limousine The click of Tsuneko’s heels follow after him.

They step into the car, Tsuneko looking as uncomfortable as she was earlier today. She may look more the part, but it’s clear she can’t relax in these environments. She’s just a commoner and a maid after all, from rural Kyushu at that, when she was first bought at the auction he had Kenzaki show him her files.

“Memorize this,” he tells her and hands her his tablet, a list of who the guests at the event are and rules on interacting with them is pulled up on it. Her eyes widen as she starts to read through it, it’s a lot to learn in a car ride, but it’s not impossible. It will be interesting to see if she can manage it. A part of him is concerned about bringing her to such an event, the very thing that makes her so amusing can make her a detriment in this situation.

The event isn’t extremely important and he knows any mistakes she makes he can easily recover from. She gets great feedback from guests she works with and is considered one of the better maids at the hotel, despite not being there for a full year. It’s clear she’s capable of being polite and friendly, perhaps that skill just leaves her when she’s speaking to him or the other penthouse residents.

His most pressing matter at the moment is the meeting with the Bucci’s, the Italian mob. Carolina, the boss’s daughter has taken an unfortunately interest in him. He can’t just brush her off and dismiss her, as much he’d like to, or he risks losing the deal with her father.

He should be able to sic Carolina on Soryu, he’s definitely her type, and if she’s interested in someone else he won’t have to deal with her. As far as he’s concerned, she’s just a pawn to get the deal with her father. It will be entertaining to see Soryu dealing with the clingy energetic woman.

Not only will the deal help his work with the Tres Spades, it will allow extra opportunities for the auctions, and maybe connections that can help to find his sister. He thought for a moment or two when he first saw her that Tsuneko could be his younger sister, they’re around the same age. But, he’s seen enough of Tsuneko’s chest between the lower cut dress and her uniform popping open to know that she doesn’t have a burn mark. Additionally, when he requested her information from Kenzaki he was informed that the manager had already checked to see if there was even a chance they were related just to find there wasn’t. He can’t help wondering is that’s why Kenzaki her application in the first place. She’s definitely one of the more interesting employees.  

Eisuke continues to think about what he needs to do for his work and the plans he has until the limousine comes to a stop. They’ve reached the venue. He takes the tablet from her hand and changes what’s on it, an open document.

“Take notes and do whatever I tell you, I won’t be tolerating any disobedience, understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waves him off, she still hasn’t told him ‘yes’ or ‘okay’, even when she does what he asks.

They walk into the event and it’s a fairly standard affair. Everyone dressed to impress and talking over wine or champagne. Each event is painfully reminiscent of each other. Tsuneko seems pained for a moment before she forces a smile, she’s trying at the very least. Whether it will be good enough remains to be seen.

The first individual to speak to them is Mr. Belrose, a wealthy man from France. He’s excited and robust, greeting her with a faire la bise, kissing Tsuneko on the cheeks. To her credit, Tsuneko seems to expect it and reacts kindly. It’s not unusual for those kinds of greetings to be shocking to people not use to them, but she either memorized the notes he gave or is smart enough not to show any signs of fluster.

Eisuke guides the conversation as he introduces her as his assistant, but Tsuneko doesn’t stand blankly off to the side. She stays engaged and takes notes, contributing when she has something relevant to say. Her and Mr. Belrose end up discussing pastries with her recommending places to visit while he’s in Tokyo. By the time the conversation ends he’s smiling and seems happy to have met her.

This trend continues as they continue making rounds and talking to guests. She’s not truly any less of a smartass, he can’t even say she’s putting up any sort of act. But, her tone is different, her little comments more like playful teasing than genuinely being annoyed. He’s just begun talking to Watanabe when he notices both of their champagne flutes has gone dry.

“Get us more champagne,” he tells Tsuneko and he can tell she wants to argue, but she doesn’t and instead goes to find champagne for them.

“You’re a lucky man, Ichinomiya,” Watanabe tells him with a grin.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Tomori, she’s a beautiful girl,” Watanabe looks over at where Tsuneko is getting champagne, “I mean, surely you have a thing for her?”

Is that how it looks? Eisuke looks over at Tsuneko, she’s certainly attractive by most standards. She’s petite with collarbone length chocolate brown hair that falls in soft waves and her large expressive eyes are a soft plum purple shade. A soft round face decorated in freckles and a single dimple that shows when she smiles. She’s a bit chubbier than the average Japanese woman which might be detractor to some. He can see how to an outsider she may seem worthy of his attention.

“She’s a diligent assistant.” Is all he says before a woman he knows he’s seen before, but can’t place the name of, comes rushing over. She throws her arms around his arm and all but glues herself to his side.

“Eisuke,” her whine is like nails on a chalkboard, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you this whole time.”

“Well, why didn’t you come on over, Kaede?” Watanabe asks her and Eisuke’s trying to figure out how to pry her off of his arm, Kaede, that’s right. She’s Amachi’s daughter, he’s the owner of a modeling agency, a spoiled girl who’s only in these circles because of her dad.

“Ugh, well I couldn’t exactly come talk with that pig hovering around Eisuke.” She didn’t want to come over because of Tsuneko, interesting. 

“I brought the champagne,” Tsuneko speaks from behind them, her glare at Kaede makes it clear she heard the pig comment. Maybe she can deter these kind of women? Eisuke and Watanabe take the champagne flutes from Tsuneko’s hand.

“Wait, I remember you,” Kaede says, her eyes trained on Tsuneko and her nails digging into his arm as she clings, “you were that maid at the I.V.C, why the hell are you here?”

Kaede was there clinging to him at the I.V.C as well when Tsuneko went off on a pervert that was harassing her.

“I’m working as Mr. Ichinomiya’s assistant today,” Tsuneko explains, her face remains stoic but her tone has lost any sign of playfulness.

“Assistant,” Kaede’s eyes seem to brighten at this, “that makes sense, you’re just here as the help of course. Why don’t you make yourself useful and get me some champagne too?”

“Given Mr. Ichinomiya is my boss, it would be up to him,” she says this politely but her meaning is clear, she won’t be taking orders from Kaede. The model scowls.

“Actually,” he draws out seeing one of the servers with champagne is finally nearing them and he pulls his arm away from Kaede’s grasp to get one of them. She looks smug as he grabs a glass, but her face falls again when he hands it to Tsuneko, “would you like some?”

“Oh, thanks.” Tsuneko’s eyes are wide with surprise, like it never even occured to her that she could enjoy some as well.

It’s time to test the waters of Tsuneko’s use as a woman deterrent. He makes sure to let their hands touch as he passes off the champagne and softens his expression as he looks at her. When he pulls his hand away it makes a small show of doing so slowly, letting his touch linger. One of Tsuneko’s eyebrow raise and her head tilts just slightly, clearly confused by his actions. Kaede however, lets out a huffy noise and storms off.

He can’t help smirking. It won’t win the bet, using her as deterrent, because many woman could probably fill that sort of role. But, it’s still some use he can get out of her, particularly when he has to meet with Carolina. It’s not unique or special to Tsuneko, those stipulations to the bet are aggravating to say the least, but he knows he’ll still win.

Watanabe gives him a look like he just caught Eisuke and Tsuneko in a private moment. Tsuneko shakes off the weirdness with an actual small shake of her head and starts drinking her champagne. The event continues on with no further issues or moments of interest.

The night winds down and it’s time for them to take their leave. Tsuneko lets out a heavy sigh as she sits down in the limousine. Perhaps it’s just from the stress of the event but she seems more relaxed in the car than she did before. She even pulls off her heels and starts rubbing her red sore ankles, unconcerned if she looks uncouth in front of him.

He can’t ask her to pose as his girlfriend or anything directly, his thoughts wander to his plans as the car starts moving. If he asks her, he’s sure she’d refuse and even ruin it purposely. She may have behaved tonight, but she’d never agree to something like that. The implication of it was enough to drive off Kaede; just forcing himself to look disgustingly in love and leave lingering touches. It may be enough to convince others he has feelings for her, not that they’re actually together. He can’t help disliking the thought of looking like a love stricken fool who’d sit idly by and not take what they want, he’d never lower himself to that kind of behavior. But, if it in addition to introducing her to Soryu gets Carolina off his back and keeps the Bucci deal safe, it will be worth it.

A loud stomach growl rings out through the car from Tsuneko’s direction and she’s glaring down on her stomach like it’s betrayed her. He can’t help letting out a short huff of air in place of a laugh.

“I haven’t eaten anything since lunch, give me a break.”

Eisuke thinks for a moment, he hasn’t eaten in a while either, the event didn’t have much in the way of food. A bakery with it’s lights still on catches his eye and he remembers Tsuneko’s babbling about sweets with Mr. Belrose. Most higher end bakeries he knows of would be shut down by now, but it’s something. He tells his driver to stop and park in front of the building. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, I can just eat when I get home.”

“We’re going because I want to ,” he tells her and it seems to quiet her up for a brief second, even if she does roll her eyes at him. The car turns to park outside the bakery and she pulls her shoes back on before they walk inside.

He can’t help sneering a bit as he looks around, it was an impulse to stop here. Eisuke didn’t realize it would be so small. A simple layout with off white walls and maple wood paneling. At the front of the store is a large brightly lit glass case meant to display sweet, but it’s notably empty. He’ll have to pay extra for them to make something, he figures.  

“Sorry, we just shut down the oven, we’re getting ready to close up in the next hour.” A young man comes out from the back in a pastry chef uniform.

“Nonsense-”

“Ah, uh,” Tsuneko interrupts and glares at him, “that’s fine, we understand.”

What on earth is wrong with her? He can just pay them to stay open longer, they’re both hungry, what’s the point in just leaving? Does she enjoy wasting his time?

“Hmm,” the chef chews his lip and seems to mull it over, “we do have one cake still left, it’s big enough to share if you two want it. Otherwise it’ll be thrown out.” The chef brings out a a large strawberry cream cake.

“You don’t mind us staying here to eat it?” Tsuneko asks him.

“We still have a half hour before we officially close, so it’s fine,” the chef tells her and she smiles brightly, the young man flushes up to his ear, “don’t worry about it.”

They take the dessert to settle in at a table to enjoy it. It’s an immaculate cake, piles of white cream and ripe strawberries between layers of sponge cake. On top a single large strawberry in a little dollop of cream. He goes to stab a fork into the top strawberry when it’s plucked off the top of the cake by Tsuneko’s fingers. Eisuke glares as Tsuneko starts to bring it to her mouth, she pauses when she realizes this.

“What?” she asks, still holding the top strawberry to her lips.

“I was going to eat that.”

“It’s literally right next to my mouth.”

“I was going to eat that,” he says again, scowling. How dare she just steal the top strawberry? She narrows her eyes and pouts, before a subtle smirk pulls at her lips.

Tsuneko makes a little show of putting part of the strawberry into her mouth and sucking off the cream, leaving the bright red fruit shining with saliva when she pulls it from her lips with a pop.

“Still want it?” She offers with a grin, like she’s got him and he wouldn’t dare eat something she’s licked. 

He returns his own smirk and plucks it from her fingers to pop it into his own mouth; eating it right in front of her.  Her face falls and she glares at him, pouting.

“Seriously?” She narrows her eyes at him and licks some cream still clinging to her lips.

“I told you, I wanted it.” He swallows the fruit, somehow tasting even sweeter than he expected.

“God, you act like a toddler.” The plate makes a scratching noise across the table as she pulls the cake closer to her and stabs her fork into it. She shoves a hunk of cake into her mouth and he drags the plate back towards him to get a bite himself.

This goes on throughout the meal; becoming a tug of war with the plate. The cake dwindles down to nothing and she swipes the final bite, licking cream from her lips. They both stand from their chairs and Tsuneko pouts when she sees him pulling his card out to pay, shouldn’t she be happy?

“I’ll pay,” she tells him and walks off towards the register. This nonsense again.

“Don’t be stupid.” He groans as he makes his way to the counter. His steps are larger than her’s by virtue of his height, but she practically hops to cut in front of him., shoving her own bank card into the machine. He glares at her back and the pastry chef rings her up. Eisuke can’t help but scoff when she has to put her card back in because she jammed it into the chip reader before it was ready.

There’s a grin across her face as she finishes the purchase and tucks her card back into her purse. She makes absolutely no sense. Buying a cake is nothing to him, but she’s still insistent on being the one to buy it. Usually the women he meets are constantly pestering him to buy them things.

She’s still an insipidly proud grin across her face as they go out to the car. At the very least it’s better than the pathetic look she had when they first bought her. He tries to focus on the buildings passing by as the limousine moves, but his eyes keep straying towards her. Her makeup is just barely starting to fade and he can see a hint of the purple bruises on her face.

It was a shock seeing her being sold that night, it’s against the rules of the auctions to sell someone against their will. He never expected to see one of the maids in a golden cage screaming at the top of her lungs, like a trapped animal. There were fresh bruises across her face, her eyes were wet with unshed tears, and she was cradling her bloody hand. While he hasn’t seen her look that pained again, he still hasn’t seen her happy. Even her proud little grins seems spiteful instead of truly happy. It’s clear she’s miserable by this whole thing and is desperate to get away from them.

If he was a nicer person he would have let her.

The limousine comes to a stop outside the hotel. He steps out and is around the other side of the car when he notices Tsuneko wincing as she gets out. Her steps are tender and careful.

“You look ridiculous.” He smirks and she glares at him.

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me for being in pain.”

“Come here.” He moves to pick her up and she jolts back like he’s burnt her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not going to waste my time waiting for you to hobble your way up to the penthouse.”

“Well, there’s not really any alternative, now is there.”

“There is.” He attempts again and she ducks away from him, letting out a whimper.

“Dude,” he’s taken aback being called ‘dude’, “you can’t pick me up.”

“What are you talking about?” He glares at her, is she calling him weak?

“I’m a chubby girl and, no offense, you’re kind of a string bean.”

He scowls, how dare she, Tsuneko isn’t able to avoid him this time and he hoists her up onto his shoulder.

“Ahhh, what the hell are you doing!?” She squirms where she’s over his shoulder, swinging her fists down against his back. He gets a firm grip on her thigh to keep her steady, her skin warm and soft under his hand.

“Stop squirming or I’ll drop you,” he threatens as he packs her into through the hotel lobby, her body heavy but not overbearing on his shoulder. A few guests give them odd looks, but he doesn’t pay them any mind.

She’s still yelping and smacking at his back when he gets her to the penthouse elevator. He’s put the key in and the elevator lurches into movement.

She hits him particularly hard in the back, a dull ache already starting to form, and he puts her down. What is her problem, she should be grateful he was willing to carry her. She glares at him instead and he scowls then she slams her fist into his stomach. A jolt of pain runs through his abdomen and he hunches over, grabbing at where she hit him.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“What is your problem!?” He tries to yell back, his voice a rasp from having the wind knocked out of him, he can’t remember the last time someone actually hit him.

“My problem is you! Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be packed around like a sack of potatoes!”

“Is it anymore humiliating than limping through the hotel?”

“Yes,” she looks at him like he’s an idiot, “it’s a thousand times worse!”

“So when you don’t get what you want, you hit me, who’s the toddler now?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you not like getting touched without permission,” she jabs him in the chest with her finger, “I told you not to pick me up and you did anyway, so I hit you.”  

“I own you, I don’t need your permission.”  

“Hellooo?~ Did you forget the entire fucking bet?! You don’t own me until you win and you know what, even if you did own me, I’d still kick your sorry ass for that bullshit!”

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open with a noise. Tsuneko stomps off towards Kisaki’s suite where her clothes are. He glares at her as she leaves before he enters the lounge. Everyone is there and they all seem to give him an odd look as he walks to his usual seat.

“What the hell happened?” Kishi is the first one to speak, taking a drag off of his cigarette and Eisuke glares at him, not that he seems bothered.

“Nothing,” he says and gets his tablet out to reviews the notes Tsuneko took.

“We could hear the woman screeching from here,” Soryu grimaces, like even talking about her or hearing her is a pain. Eisuke shifts in his seat and a twinge of pain goes through his gut, his expression must change because he gets some strange looks.

“Are you alright boss?” Baba asks him with a look of concern.

“She hit me,” he admits, avoiding eye contact as he pulls up her notes.

“Pfffft,” Kishi lets out a sputtering laugh and chokes on his cigarette.

“We can still get rid of her,” Soryu offers without hesitation.

“No,” Eisuke tells him as he reads over the tablet. Her notes are immaculate, well organized and clear to understand with an immense amount of details. She may be proving to be a handful, but he knows he can find a proper use for her.

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

Tsuneko groans loudly as she stumbles into her dorm peels off her shoes. She could have changed in Kisaki’s suite, but after her fight with Ichinomiya, she just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. The event dragged on for entirely too long, it’s like she’s spent years with Ichinomiya instead of hours. She puts the shopping bags of professional clothes down on her counter, she’ll tuck them away in her closet properly after she’s done everything else that needs to be done. For now those and the stack of documents listing auction items will sit right there and stay as far away from her consciousness as possible.

She checks on Kiyo, he’s snoozing with only half of his body in bed. Tsuneko grabs some comfy casual clothes, one of her favorite pajama sets, and heads into her bathroom. They’ll be nice to relax in after her bath. She scrubs off the makeup, revealing her plain baby face underneath, Kisaki really is a master with that kind of stuff. The dress takes her a moment to strip off, her bra and panties follow into the clothes pile.

It takes a while for her water to warm up and fill the tub. She’s infinitely thankful the dorms come with bathtubs and not just a shower, even if they’re on the smaller side. Showers are great in the morning when she’s in a rush, but when she needs to relax, baths are the best.

She sinks down into the steaming hot water, keeping her bandaged hand up on the side of the tub. It’s a bit of trouble to pour some body wash into her uninjured hand, but she manages it. She takes a deep breath, the familiar smell of her body wash is relaxing. A soft sweet scent of fresh cream that’s just warm and comforting to her.

It builds a gentle lather across her skin, flushed pink from the hot water. She scrubs down her neck and whimpers when she starts to tease her chest. That burn of arousal starts to build inside of her again, maybe it all the stress, but she’s been feeling so needy lately. Her body is begging for some sort of release.

She gently squeezes and plays with her breasts, avoiding her nipples for the time being. Soft moans and whines escapes her as she tries to imagine someone else teasing her and groping at her body. There’s a steady heat building between her thighs as her fingers sink into the squish of her breast. She can feel herself growing slicker with each movement.

Her fingers finally travel to her nipple, teasing over the sensitive peach pink skin. A breathy sound escapes her as she starts pinching and pulling at it. Her teeth sinks into her lip, she’s not sure how thin the walls are in these dorms, but she doesn’t want to test it. Even with the warmth of the water her touch is able to bring her nipple to a stiff peak before she moves to the other one. Her thighs clench together, trying to put some pressure on her clit.

Once she’s teased her other nipple for a moment, leaving her chest covered in suds as her hand starts to slip down lower. Her fingers rub down the soft squish of her stomach before finding their place between her thighs. She’s gentle at first, just teasing her slit, but she can’t stand it a moment longer.

She lets out a loud whine of pleasure when she presses her fingers to her clit, the bundle of nerves twitches at the touch. A jolt of ecstasy hits her and she presses down harder. She can feel her hot slick even through the water and she starts rubbing at herself. Her fingers move quick and her hips instinctively rock up against her own touch. The water splashing out of the tub from the movements. Her body is so desperate and her pleasure builds quickly. She dips her fingers down into her to stop herself from cumming so quickly.

It’s a slow pumping motion, her fingers aren’t long enough to give herself any kind of deep penetration, but it’s enough to keep her pleasure going without crashing over her peak. She scissors her fingers, trying to give her tight hole a slight stretch. A whimper escapes her and her clit throbs, needing more stimulation.

She drags her slick fingers back up and starts playing with her swollen clit again. It’s too much and her walls clench at the touch. Pleasure overwhelms her and her moan catches in her throat as the tension snaps, finally finding her release.

She’s reduced to whimpers and whines as rides out the aftershocks, softly teasing herself through until it’s too much. Between the heat of her body and the water, it’s like she’s melting. Her breath comes out in heavy pants and her toes are sore from curling. Once she’s caught her breath, she carefully washes the rest of her body, avoiding her sensitive cunt and chest.

She’s extra careful getting out of the tub, between the water and her now shaky legs it’s a bit more precarious. She dries her skin, whining when she rubs the towel down between her thighs, the fabric brushes across the sensitive lips of her sex. Once dry she changes into her pajamas and pulls her hair up into two messy space buns. Her face is still red, the after glow of orgasm clinging to her. The bathroom smells like body wash and sex now, despite what she did, she still feels clean.

She needs to take care of a few mundane things, now that she’s gotten her release. Kiyo is still snoozing in his cage, so she’ll have to let him out to play later tonight when he’s awake. She cleans up his cage then changes his food and water. The stack of documents catches her eye, she needs to deal with that. Everything about having to present at the auction is a headache waiting to happen. Instead of starting on that she marks the day off on the calendar, she has the duration of the bet highlighted, so that she can keep track of how long she has until she hopefully escapes this hellish situation. She puts a reminder on the day of the auction as well.

Tsuneko plops onto her bed, pressing her face against her pillow. She just wants to relax, while she usually is dying to keep busy, those assholes take up her time in the worse kind of way. Playing assistant to someone else wouldn’t have been bad, but dealing with Ichinomiya, ugh. She groans against her pillow. Those assholes frustrate and exhaust her in the worse kind of ways.

Even thinking of them is ruining her time to relax, her skin is still warm and clean from the bath. She idly runs her hands over her side and up over her chest, feeling her nipples through the thin cotton of her tank top. A whimper is muffled by her pillow and her thighs clench. Fuck, her body never seems to be satisfied.

Tsuneko moves to her knees and uses her injured hand to pull the pillow tight to her face to muffle any noises. She doesn’t waste any time shoving her other hand down her short and between her thighs. Her clit is already slick and swollen, it’s like the first orgasm did nothing to sate her. She rubs her fingers over it, making noises into her pillow.

Tension and pleasure pools between her legs, her orgasm building higher and higher. But this time, she can’t go over the peak. Her hopes of a quick second orgasm are dashed, her ecstasy plateaus and she can’t seem to build it high enough to cum. She rubs quicker and harder, it’s good but it’s not enough.

“Fuck,” she whines into her pillow, she just wants to cum damn it. Her bed creaks as she scramble to get her box out from under her bed. The baby pink box with a quilted heart lid and a Winnie The Pooh padlock is where she keeps all of her sex toys. She nearly drops the key, her movements are so frantic and her fingers are too slick. It opens, showing her growing hoard of toys.

She picks her big smooth silver toy meant to hit some spot deep inside of her. That spot has an actual name, but the lusty haze in her brains keep her from remembering it. She peels off her shorts and gets back on her knees, with her face in the pillow.

Tsuneko reaches back with the toy, a soft mewl escapes her when the toy brushes against her sensitive folds. She slowly pushes it inside of her, whimpering at the deep penetration and stretch of it opening her up. It hits that sweet spot and she sees stars. She starts fucking the toy into herself, losing all sense of patience, as she furiously chases her orgasm. Her slick drips down her thigh and coats her hand as she slams the toy inside of herself. Pleasure keeps building with every pump of the toy. She can’t keep any sort of rhythm or pattern, it’s just a frantic mixture of thrusting the toy while her hips bounce. Her hips slam down just she fucks the toy up in, hitting that spot so hard the tension finally snaps and she bites down on her pillow to muffle her yell, her body melts into pure bliss. A gush of slick rushes down her thighs as her cunt clenches down on the toy.

She pants into her pillow, drool smearing across it. A soft noise escapes her as she takes the toy out with a flood of slick following it. Tsuneko catches her breath for a moment and forces herself to sit up; there’s a big wet spot on her blankets, her thighs are coated in her own juices, and there’s a sheen of sweat clinging to her skin.

A shower would probably be a good idea, but her body is heavy. She stares at her clock, making promises to get out of her bed and clean up. A minute or two passes and the numbers grow fuzzier. It’s like her eyelids are weighted, keeping them open is a struggle.

When her eyes open again the clock has jumped to an hour or two later. Whatever dreams she may have had weren’t vivid enough to recall or she wasn’t asleep long enough. Orgasms and booze is the best way she knows she suppress the worse of her nightmares. Though she never seems to stay asleep for very long after an orgasm, which is probably for the best. If it could give her a long deep dreamless kind of sleep, she’d probably spend the majority of her time with her hand between her legs.

She stretches as she climbs out of her bed, the air is cool on her sweat and slick coated skin. Her toy is still on top of the sheets, she cleans it and tucks it back into the box. Tsuneko grabs her discarded shorts and a new set of pajamas before heading to the shower.

Her shower manages to be free of funny business She leaves the bathroom clean, with new pajamas, and newly done space buns. It’s a little after three in the morning, she usually gets up around five, so she might as well just stay up and get something done besides masturbating.

Kiyo is up and making noises as she comes over to his cage. She lets him out and he’s quick to tackle one of his toys. While he’s playing with that she puts the new clothes away in her dresser, the price tags still hurt, and changes the sheets on her bed.. Tsuneko grabs one of her binders, a black one with a cute minimalist cat face on it. It’s empty, one she bought on a whim because it was adorable with no real use, now she has something to use with it.

She takes the documents of auction items and punches holes in them to fit them into the binder. She’ll start reading over them on her lunch break and she still needs to visit the tea room, or whatever, where Oh said the hatter was.

Memories of the hatter and the auction flash through her mind. All eyes on her, an entire crowd just waiting for the chance to use her, to hurt her and she can’t even get away. Her throat is tight and she can’t get a deep enough breath. Her heart races like a runaway train, it’s going to burst out of her chest. She wraps her arms around herself and pulls her knees to her chest, hiding her face away from the phantom eyes she can still feel on her.

Something fluffy touches her thigh and she jolts in her chair, Kiyo is climbs into her lap. She hugs him tight to her chest and pets his fur. He makes soft noises and she focuses all of her attention on him, slowly she starts to feel better. Her breathing steadies and her heart race starts to normalize.

“You’re such a good boy, Kiyo.” She gives him a soft smooch and he nuzzles into her face. Tears she didn’t realize she was crying wet his fur, but he doesn’t mind and makes soft dooking noises.

She takes a deep breath, thankful her body will allow it and puts Kiyo down, time for a game of tag. Tsuneko boops him and runs away letting him chase her excitedly across the dorm. They play and chase after each other for around an hour. She catches him after her turn to tag him and scratches at his stomach, making him nip at her fingers.

Tsuneko makes him some breakfast, his favorite eggs and raw beef, giving him an extra helping. She feeds him a bit from her hand before putting him away, topping the bowl off again before she goes to get ready. She’s gone through her skin care routine, put on makeup, tied her hair, and changed into some slightly less pajama-y clothes. Her stomach growls, she’ll go to a gas station and grab a candy bar or something. She’s still running early and it will be nice to go out of her way. A little walk might help clear her mind.

The early morning air is cool and nice on her skin, there’s a little convenient store not that far away from the hotel. She walks inside, rows of colorful snacks and fluorescent lights greet her. Tsuneko takes her time browsing before picking out a bottle of strawberry milk and custard filled taiyaki. She’s getting her bank card out as she walks up to the register.

“Hello, princess.”

Her head jerks up at the familiar voice and sickly sweet pet name. Baba stands behind the register with a big smile in the striped blue convenience store uniform, isn’t he a thief? Does he need a day job?

“You work here?”

“Part time, I like to help out, now you know another place to find me.” Baba wink as he starts ringing up her order.

“Guess I’m not coming back.” Tsuneko slides her card and then her eyes go wide. There’s a display of Cinnamoroll lollipops near the register she didn’t see earlier. Not only is the little fluffy mascot on the wrappers, the actual suckers are shaped like him. She has to bite her lip to resist yelling out, it’s so cute. But, she’s already bought her makeshift breakfast, maybe she’ll come back after work and buy a bunch to fill her candy bowl and uniform pockets. 

“Awww, don’t be like that, lovely lady.”

“I have a name.”

“And it’s a beautiful one.”

“Don’t make me sick before breakfast.” She sighs and grabs her bag before heading out the door.

“See you later, Tsuneko.” At least she knows he does actually remember her name. She gives a half-ass wave before she leaves the store.

She pulls out the taiyaki and unwraps it, munching on the custard filled cake as she walks towards the hotel. Tsuneko is licking her fingers clean as she reaches the back lot behind the Tres Spades. She’s getting her milk out of the bag when she feels something else.

It’s one of the Cinnamoroll lollipops, a pink bubblegum flavored one. Did Baba toss it into her bag for her? He must have seen her practically drooling over them. That’s actually really nice, ugh. It’s hard to hate him if he’s going to be like this. She tucks it into her pocket for later and drinks her milk.

She’s finished with her little breakfast and thrown her trash away by the time she enters the locker room. She immediately sees Sakiko and makes a beeline for her, remembering the conversation she had yesterday with Chiho and Mari. Tsuneko pinches Sakiko’s ear and yanks.

“Owww, what are you doing?!”

“What the hell have you been telling people?!”

“About wha-owwww!” Tsuneko yanks harder.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“Chisato, help!”

“You did it to yourself, Sakiko.” Chisato doesn’t even look away from her locker.

“Confess, asshole.” Tsuneko yanks again.

“Ahhhh, all I did was tell people about you bumping into Mr. Ichinomiya.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“Owww-uh, okay maybe I told them he loves you.”

“And why the hell would you do that?!”

“’Cause it’s true!”

“Do you want to die?!”

“Not before I get a boyfriend,” Sakiko whines and Tsuneko lets go of her ear.

“Stop being an idiot.”

“Just tell me to stop breathing why don’t you,” Sakiko grumbles, rubbing at her bright red ear.

“It would certainly make my life easier.”

“That’s mean Tsuneko,” Chisato scolds in a deadpan voice.

“Well, yeah, I said it, that’s how you know.” Tsuneko opens her locker and her eyes widen, there’s a stack of new uniforms in her locker. She checks the tag, it’s doesn’t say a specific size.

“Did you finally get your new uniform?” Sakiko asks as Tsuneko pulls out one of them.

“Uh, yeah,” Tsuneko tells her because she doesn’t know what else to say, maybe Kenzaki noticed and put in an order for her?

She pulls on the uniform and the fit is amazing, like it’s tailored just to her. Tsuneko sometimes struggles with sizing, finding a balance between comfortable but not frumpy, but this is perfect. It’s not too tight across her chest or stomach, but still tailored enough that it doesn’t sag or swallow her whole. Her waist is still defined in it and it doesn’t make her look bigger than she is.

Is the neckline a little lower though? She feels like she has to do up another button than usual to completely cover her cleavage. She’s not too shy about having her chest showing, but it’s not exactly professional, so she just does up the extra button and calls it done.

“By the way,” Tsuneko starts as she shuts her locker, “do either of you know where the tea room is?”

“The tea room?” Sakiko raises an eyebrow, maybe they don’t know anything about it.

“Uh, like somewhere to get tea at?” Chisato tries, but she clearly has no idea what Tsuneko is talking about.

“No, not exactly, don’t worry about it.” She’ll just have to ask Kenzaki, he’s sure to know. They leave the locker room and get their work schedules.

Tsuneko spots Kenzaki at the front desk, checking in guests, and makes a quick beeline over to him. She waits patiently for the guests to finish registering.

“Is there something I can help you with Tomori?”

“Yes, Mr. Oh told me that I needed to go to the tea room at some point, but I’m not sure where that is.”

“Ah, alright then, please follow me.” Kenzaki isn’t bothered in the slightest, nothing seems to knock the passive smile off of his face.

He leads her through the lobby and down to the basement. Her mouth goes dry as they meander through the familiar halls, all she can remember is seeing them through cage bars. She swallows hard and tries to push through, then Kenzaki leads her down another flight of stairs she’s never seen before. She always though the level with the ballroom and auction was the lowest of the hotel, it’s even marked as the basement floor in the elevators.

“Here we are,” Kenzaki tells her and gestures towards a large set of double doors along the hall in this new basement level of the hotel.

“Alright, I’ll make a note of it. I still have rooms to clean, so I’ll come back later.”

“If you’ve been asked to come down here, it’s best for you to go on in. The penthouse guests and the tea room resident should take precedent over your other duties,” Kenzaki explains calmly, before leaving her alone in front of the door. Tsuneko tales a deep breath and lets her nerves calm down before she knocks on the door.

“Come in,” a voice calls out and Tsuneko pushes the doubles doors open.

Her breath catches in her throat. It’s like she’s stepped into another world. The ceiling looks exactly like a beautiful early morning sky, soft blue with puffy white clouds, so real she can almost convince herself she’s outside. What looks and feels like lush green grass is under her feet, but she knows it can’t be real. Masses of green vines and bright red roses are painted across the brick walls. Within the middle of the room is a table covered in a white table cloth, wooden chairs with white blue striped cloth. At the table sits the Mad Hatter, still dressed in the same costume from the night she was sold.

“Um, hello, I was told to come down here.”

“Alice,” the Mad Hatter jump out of his seat with wide eyes and rushes over to her. She startles back it’s so sudden, “Oh, you’re timid, I must treat you delicately.”  

“Uh, no, I’m fine sorry,” she murmurs. Given his hatter get up and the wonderland vibe of the room, she can gather that this must be an Alice in Wonderland reference. She can’t say she’d ever liken herself to the fairy tale character, but that doesn’t stop the Mad Hatter.

“I finally found you, Alice,” he whispers as he clasps her hands between his, he’s like a kid who’s just been told he can have candy and a toy. His costume and aesthetic is far on the uncanny side, but his expression is almost cute underneath the caked on makeup.

“My name is Tomori Tsuneko.”

“Your eyes are so pure and innocent, you’re the perfect Alice.”

“Pffft,” she suppresses a laugh. She definitely would not consider herself pure or innocent, “uh, Oh told me to come talk to you about helping out with the auction shit.”

“Yes! I was so excited when he told me, your outfit should be here soon!”

“Outfit?” She grimaces, if it’s anything like what he wears, she’s scared.

“Yes, I know you’ll look beautiful in it, I’ve been wanting to see you again since that night!”

“You have?”

“From the first moment I saw you, I was a prisoner of your love.”

“Okaaaay,” she looks away from the entirely too earnest looking hatter, “someone’s been spending too much time with Baba.”

“You’re the Alice that I’ve been searching for,” there’s a hopeful lilt to his voice, “you have no idea how long I’ve waited to meet you, Alice.”

He casts his eyes downward and a pout pulls at his painted lips. The expression causes a pang in her heart, that she really doesn’t want to address. He’s a grown man in a hatter costume who’s working an illegal auction, he gleefully sold her, he’s not a child. She has to tell herself this, remind herself not to feel sympathy for this man.

“Well,” she scratches at her nose sheepishly, “I’m here now.”

“The reason you started working here, you breaking the Venus Statue,” his face lights up, “it was all part of the fate that brought us together. I don’t believe in coincidences, Alice. Our fates are connected. ”

“Well, I don’t believe in fate, so we’re gonna have a helluva time.”

“You say the oddest things, Alice.”

“So, wha-huh? Oh my god!” Brushing against her leg is the fattest, fluffiest Himalayan cat she’s ever seen, staring up at Tsuneko with bright blue eyes.

“Oh, Cheshire! And how are you doing today?” The Mad Hatter scoops up the cat, just a fat mass of fur in his arms.

“Can I pet them?” Tsuneko asks, despite how much she wants to reach out and just snuggle that precious fluff ball, she knows it’s wrong not to ask first.  

“Of course, Cheshire’s pride and joy is her silky long hair,” he says as hands Cheshire over. Tsuneko’s arms strain to hold the cat, but she doesn’t mind and nuzzles her face against the fluffy girl.

“You’re such a pretty girl, aren’t you,” she coos at Cheshire.

“Would you like to help take care of her, Alice?” The Mad Hatter asks, his unnaturally blue eyes wide and a smile across his lips.

“Can I?”

“You may, but you’d have to come down here everyday to brush her fur.”

“I don’t mind.” Tsuneko smiles, cuddling a cat is now part of her job, that’s the best news ever.

“Wonderful!” The Mad Hatter bounces and claps his hands, you’d think he had just won the lottery.

“Okay, so-god damn it.” Her pager buzzes in her pocket and she has to let Cheshire go to answer it.

“Penthouse. Five Minutes.”

“My, my, how frightening.”

“Yeah, I gotta go deal with his shit.” Tsuneko sighs, the last time she saw Ichinomiya she’d sucker punched him.

“Oh, you’re leaving.” He pouts and stares at the ground, he looks like strange wounded harlequin puppy.

“Yeah, but I can come back.” The words comes out before Tsuneko even realizes it, the need to comfort him is overwhelming.

“Really!?” His expression is bright again, “Would you want to come back around nine or so and help me with a tea party?”

“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Tsuneko tells him with a soft smile.

“I can’t wait, ahh, you better get going or he’ll be mad.”

“What else is new.” Tsuneko waves him off and heads out the door. She takes her time to make it up to the lounge, taking her time with the stairs and helping a few guests before entering the elevator with her cleaning cart.

“You’re late.”

“I was in the tea room.”

“Ugh, I’d go crazy if I had to spend even a hour there.” Kisaki grimaces.

“Maddy is definitely an eccentric guy.”

“Coffee.” At the very least, Ichinomiya isn’t trying to harp on the whole punching him thing. She ventures into the kitchen and makes up drinks.

“I’ll go ahead and start cleaning,” she tells them after she hands off the drinks.

“You’ll be be working as my assistant all day tomorrow,” Ichinomiya says after taking a sip of his coffee.

“I can’t believe you’re dragging that woman along with us,” Oh grumbles as he takes a drink from his cup. Everyday is a struggle not to spit into their drinks.

“Dress appropriately and be here ready to leave at 8:30am.’

“Is Kenzaki still busy?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“This is my job and you’re my employer, this could not be more of my business.”

“Be quiet and start cleaning already,” Oh demands her and she can’t help glaring at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going, you sexist dumbass,”she grumbles and goes to start cleaning.

“What was that?”

“I called you a sexist dumbass,” she repeats louder.

“You’re just asking to be put down at this point.”

“Whatever,” Tsuneko mumbles again, she’s still not sure how serious Oh is about killing her and every time he makes those comments she has to wonder. If she knew how empty his threats were, she’d feel better. Even if he is being honest and would kill her, at least then she’d know to be careful of him.

Once the lounge is cleaned she starts working on the suites. Kishi’s gives her a headache again, but she manages. Oh’s room is last, because his is usually fairly neat and just needs standard maintenance Tsuneko cleans the bedroom, living room, and kitchen before making it to her bathroom.

Oh is annoying her in particular today. Between the condescending way he calls her woman and the constant death threats. He may want her out of there, but he plans on treating her like shit until it happens. Baba and Kisaki generally seem pretty light hearted when they tease her. There’s something more, hateful almost when it comes to Oh and Ichinomiya. Kishi takes up space and ruins the air quality, that’s where his influence end.

A wrapper scratches across her fingers where she’s fiddling with the good luck charm, a force of habit at this point. She’s reminded of the cute little sucker tucked away in her pocket. Keeping candy in her pockets isn’t uncommon, but this is all she has on her today. Her eyes are drawn up to the shower head in Oh’s bathroom. She pulls off the wrapper carefully, saving it for the cute art work. 

“Sorry, Cinnamoroll, know you died for a good cause,” she tells the little puppy shaped lolipop as she yanks the candy off the stick. Tsuneko unscrews his shower head, tucks the treat inside, then puts it back together. By the end of his next shower, he should be coming out sticky and smelling like bubblegum.

Content with her petty revenge of the day, Tsuneko finishes the rest of the bathroom and leaves the penthouse to start the rest of her work. The rest of the day passes by pretty easily; cleaning rooms, restocking amenities, and helping guests. She eats her lunch in the cafeteria with Sakiko and Chisato, the two of them idly chatting while she reads over the auction items. Tsuneko wants to see about them eventually getting lunch at Parole, the little bakery Ichinomiya and her went to. Not only was the cake good, the pastry chef was adorable, all she wanted to do was hug him when his face lit up red. 

She’s finished the last room on her work schedule and it’s time to head back to Wonderland for the tea party. She can’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of that thought. The Mad Hatter is a strange man and despite trying to remember how he fucking sold her, she can’t help having a soft spot for him. Tsuneko knocks on the door to the tea room

“Come in, come in,” The Hatter ushers her in with a smile, “help me decorate for the party, Alice.”

He brings her through one of the many doors in his Wonderland that leads to a bedroom. The walls are a soft green and there’s a canopy bed with teal blue sheets. There’s a huge oak book shelf across one of the walls, piled with a mixture of books and strange little trinkets. The room itself looks like a jam packed antique and oddity shop, just an eclectic mishmash of random things.

“Uh, what about this?” she points at a candelabra.

“Why did you pick that?”

“I don’t know, looks nice.” Tsuneko gives a shrug, does it really matter?

“That’s not a very good description,” The Mad Hatter pouts like she’s scolded him, “this is how you should describe it, Alice.”

He snatches it from his hand with a flourish and waves his hand around it. His expression is bright again, all wide eyed and smiley. The Mad Hatter’s emotions seem to shift on every little whim.

“The feel of it is as sensual as juicy pear. It’s cold as ice, the temperature like a chameleon which stirs a sluggish soul!”

“Pear are sensual….?” She raises an eyebrow at him, now she’s just wondering if he fucks pears or something.

“The candelabra was in a deep sleep, but now it’s alive. With the appropriate descriptions, any object can be brought to life. Word have both the power to give life and to kill.” all jokes aside, she can kind of see what he’s getting at, that describing things in a creative way kind of makes it more fun.

“I think I get it.” She can’t say this is really her forte, but there’s something fun about his over the top antics.

“Now, let continue choosing decorations.” The Hatter bustles around the crowded room. He grabs random objects and presents them to Tsuneko before going into some flowery description about them.

“The painting of the cobra,” he spins and shows it to her, “silently command words. It’s dainty as a house mouse, brimming with an inner passion rivaled only by Perseus.”

“Uhhh, but it also hides the secret pain of knowing Medusa’s tragedy,” Tsuneko offers, using her limited knowledge of Greek myth. His smile is her reward for the attempt, even if she’s still not confident. Creativity isn’t exactly her strong suit.

“Hidden in the depths of this bronze goddess statue is a shy spotted garden eel. But, the sweet curve of her breast is like a sad melody from Chopin!.”

“That’s a poetic way to say nice rack,” she turns to find something else when she sees two random figures, “ahHHH”

Tsuneko jumps back and trips over one of The Hatter’s treasures. There’s two grown men in furry animal heads, one a mouse and the other a rabbit. Both dressed and vivid suits and just looming in the doorway.

“Alice, that’s so rude.”

“What!? A wild furry convention just broke out in your bedroom and you wanna call me rude!?

“These are our guests, The March Hare and The Dormouse.”

“What up?” A rough masculine voice comes from The March Hare.

“My stress levels, that’s what!” Tsuneko yells as she scrambles to her feet, this just went up a few notches on the strange meter. The weird almost furries start silently packing the ‘decorations’ out into the tea room.

Once her heart starts pounding, she does her best to help set up the little party. Eventually, everything seems to be in order to The Mad Hatter’s standard. Cheshire watches idly by, her big fluffy tail flicking back and forth.

“Let the party begin,” The Mad Hatter decides once it’s all done, tapping a teacup with a spoon. A discordant tone starts to play, where it’s coming from she doesn’t know, it’s almost like a distorted carnival song.

Tsuneko takes a seat and so does the two partial furry guys. Food arrives and she can’t help raising an eyebrow. It’s all strangely and vividly colored, reminding her of those bright toxic frogs. All of the food is in weird shapes, from lizards to mushrooms and a variety of bug shapes.

She slowly bites down on one of the mushrooms, it looks the least odd of the items. It has the texture of gelatin with an almost chemically artificial sweetness to it, like cheap icing.

“The steam lizard is as soft as mashed potatoes! The butterflies are crispy and fried to perfection! The grasshopper tastes lovely with the brown butter sauce, but the ladybugs taste better with the raspberry!”

The Mad Hatter rambles on and on, while no one else speaks. The March Hare and The Dormouse silently eat, while Tsuneko tries to search for one of the little treats that is actually good. She picks up one of the little butterflies, decorated like a monarch one and nibbles on it. Tsuneko nearly spits it out, it taste like fondant, awful like sugary play-doh. She ends up just pouring raspberry sauce on her plate and eating that alone. Exactly, how delusional is the hatter?

“Isn’t this fun Alice?” The Hatter asks her.

“Yeah,” she tells him, sucking raspberry sauce off her finger. Cheshire hops into her lap and, once her fingers are cleaned, she starts scratching through her fur.

“Cheshire is so happy with you here, Alice. I am too, this was the best nothing day ever.” The Mad Hatter gives her a big smile. His party is winding down, the Hare and Dormouse leaving without a word. Despite the inherent strangeness, she can’t say she didn’t like the odd little party. The Mad Hatter is at the very least entertaining.

“It was fun,” she tries to think of a nice way to say this. He can’t actually like this food and it’s definitely not good for him. No one likes fondant or bad gelatin, “but, if you don’t mind, I’d like to cook the food for a tea party at some point.”

“Really,” his eyes go wide and then he smiles, “I’d love that!”

“Lovely, how about the day after tomorrow, so I can get a menu together?”

“I’d like to have  yorkshire pudding and lemon chiffon pie.”

“York...shire...pudding?” Her eyebrow raises at the unfamiliar dish name.  She knows what pudding is, but the word yorkshire has her stumped, like those terrier dogs?

“Don’t worry, it’s a very simple recipe from my home country.”

That gives her no more information, his voice has a slight accent and that food definitely isn’t Japanese, but she can’t discern his race underneath the thick makeup. The little treats he has at the tea party are shaped like lizards and bugs, maybe it’s pudding in the shape of  a dog? How would that even work, pudding can’t hold it’s shape, unless you freeze it. So, would it be like a dog pudding pop? That doesn’t sound right, either. She’ll just have to look it up later.

“Okay, I’ll-” her pager buzzes in her pocket, “what the fuck, I’m not even on shift!”

“Get up here, now, woman!” Oh barks demands when she answers it, someone tried to take a shower.

“They’re taking you away again,” The Mad Hatter pouts, staring at his feet. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

“Really?”

“Promise,” she says and offers her pinkie finger to him. He locks his finger with hers and a smile lights up his face, “you know what a pinkie promise means right?”

“That you promised?” His head tilts to the side a bit.

“It means that if someone breaks the promise, the other person can punish them. Traditionally, it’s cutting off the pinkie finger, ten-thousand punches, or swallowing a thousand needles. But, it’s up to the other person to decide what the punishment is. ”

“I don’t want to punish you,”

“That’s good, ‘cause you won’t have to. I have to help out Ichinomiya tomorrow, so I don’t know if I can stop by tomorrow, but I’ll be here the day after with as many treats as I can carry.”

“Okay, thank you Alice.”

“No worries, now if you excuse me, I have to go get yelled at.” She waves a bye to him and starts the journey back up to the penthouse. This should be interesting to say the least.

There will be a death threat involved, she knows that given Oh’s love of those. Even if it wasn’t her original intention, in all honesty she was just mad and feeling petty, this might be a chance to see how genuine those threats are. If the guy is willing to kill her over a petty prank, she’ll know how carefully she has to tread around him. Not that this will necessarily stop her from talking back and getting angry, because, well, that’s just kind of who she is. It’s not like she can’t bite her tongue and be kind to people she doesn’t like, but there’s some stuff she can’t let pass. And given how they purchased her at an illegal auction, she doesn’t really feel the need to treat them with anything resembling respect. They sealed their fate with her that night. Even if she loses the bet, she’ll never be kind or respectful to them.

She can hear laughter and yelling as she steps into the lounge. Baba, Kisaki, and Kishi are cracking up in hysterics. Ichinomiya is smirking and looking like he’s on the verge of laughing as well. Oh is in the middle of the lounge, yelling at them to shut up. His usually slicked back dark hair is falling into his face, just slightly damp, and the smell of artificial bubblegum is evident in the room.

“I was paged.”

All eyes are on her and she barely manages to keep the smile off her face. Oh glares at her and it gets easier, her breath catching in her throat. His hair down soften his appearance a bit, but there’s nothing but sheer venom in his dark blue eyes.

“What the hell is this?” He throws something at her and she just manages to catch the half melted piece of candy, no longer recognizable as Cinnamoroll.

“Hey, be careful, if that stuck to the floor, it’d take forever to clean,” she complains and toss the candy into the trash, trying to wipe some of the sticky residue off her skin.

“Did you seriously put candy in my shower head!?” He yells and storms closer to her, invading her personal space, looming over her.

“Yeah, obviously.”

“You’re not even going to deny it, really?!”

“You were an asshole, so I got back at you, simple as that.”

“Do you have a death wish?” He threatens in a low voice.

“Sor, don’t-”

“Sure, go for it,” she challenges, ignoring the shake in her voice and way her mouth’s gone dry. Her hands tremor, but she doesn’t break eye contact or back down.

“What was that?” His voice is practically a growl and he’s getting closer, trying to intimidate her.

“I said go for it,” she sits down one of the couches crossing her arms and legs as she glares up at the mobster, “put up or shut up.”

Oh doesn’t hesitate to pull a gun from the waistband of his pants and points it directly at her face, the metal glinting. Her chest tightens as her heart races, she swallows hard, but keep her eye contact.

He’s serious. He’s fucking serious.

“Stop,” Ichinomiya demands, from his position in his chair, looking over his tablet. Despite the harshness of his tone, he shows no signs of moving or looking up. Oh scoffs and lowers his gun.

“You’re not worth the bullet it would take to kill you.”

“And you weren’t worth the candy it took to ruin your night.”

“Are you seriously still pushing your luck!?”

“Yeah, I am, ‘cause this is fucking pathetic! You were gonna blow my brains out over a piece of fucking candy, do you hear how fucking stupid that is!?”

“Stop,” Ichinomiya repeats, this time harsher and more commanding, his eyes actually landing on the arguing pair.

“This is asinine,” Tsuneko grumbles and stands from the couch, walking towards the exit, “my shift has been over for hours, I’m going home, and I expect to get overtime for this bullshit!” she yells the last bit over her shoulder as she leaves.

She makes the journey back down to the employee locker room. Tsuneko has to focus on every little step, every movement, her eyes focus on just going. If she doesn’t do this she’ll break down and she knows it. She knows the tell tales signs. The way her throat constricts and her lips quiver.

The locker room is empty, all of the coworkers working the same shift as her have gone home and those on the later shift have already gone to work. Still she checks the bathroom and shower attached, no one, then she moves a trash can to block the door, so no one can come in.

She sits on the ground in front of her locker and pulls her knees to her chest. Her face is soaked in seconds as tears stream down her cheeks, hot against her skin. A disgustingly pathetic sob echoes in the locker room and she hates herself for making a noise like that, for being this weak.

She’s not been that good of a person and she knows that, she’s hurt a lot of people and done a lot of shitty things. A part of her wonders if it’s some sort of cosmic punishment, but her skepticism keeps her from committing to that line of thought. Anyone could have been put in her place, she could just as easily see Sakiko, Chisato, or even Erika somehow finding themselves in this predicament. 

She’d rather it be her than anyone else. In all honesty, even if it isn’t karma at work, if anyone deserves to suffer like this it’s her. But, that doesn’t make it any easier. Nothing can make this easy. This is only the second fucking day of the bet and she’s had a gun pointed at her. She hates this, she hates being stuck with those men and for no other reason than Ichinomiya gets a kick out of it.

Her sobs fade to whimpers and sniffles. She tries to wipe the mess of tears off of her face. She’s got to win this bet, she can’t let this drag on for more than two weeks. Tsuneko remembers the deadlines she’s looked into for applying to those smaller colleges back into Kyushu. She wants to win this damn bet and get as far away from this hotel as she can.

The alternative makes a fresh batch of tears fall from her eyes. She can’t live like this and running away wouldn’t be an option. She’d rather die than have to deal with them beyond that, but not at any of their hands. If she loses, she’d rather go out on her own terms. Memories of thick woven rope she bought a while back comes to mind, it’s been sitting at the back of her closet since she moved into the dorms.

She shakes her head, she’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it. Tsuneko forces herself back up to her feet, she’s got shit to do right now. Her legs are like jelly as she stands up and changes into her street clothes. Twelve more days, that’s all she has to survive, no matter what.

[dragonleesupporter]

Unloved Siblings (Part 1)

Author’s note: H-OOOOLY crap, this took a lot. I’m pretty sure I went over this at least ten times, so enjoy this peek into the land where Lucaja was born!

Summary: Lucaja breaks in two.

Here’s the fics leading up to this one;  Tear Down the Wall,  Of Confrontation and Comfort.

Without further ado, let’s go!

...

             “The Eternity Crystal’s calling…” Cush murmured, barely loud enough to hear.

           The ball of spikes sat up and listened, trying to decipher what kind of signal the crystal was sending out. Though he had been the first born into his land, he was the slowest learner out of the rest. Cush was the Pain Monster. Specifically, physical pain. He was a porcupine-like creature with thick, black spikes sprouting along the spine of his deep red body. In contrary to his threatening body, his face was one of a tender mouse; large, fluffy ears, black eyes glistening and pointy nose constantly twitching. His long tail had the equivalent of a mace on the end of it which he liked to swing around whenever he was feeling playful.

 His tiny limbs stretched and the spikes along his spine bumped into each other as he arched his back, spiky tail lashing with excitement.

             “M-Mentora! Wake up! There’s a new manifestation monster!” Cush’s squeaky voice called into the cave behind him which housed his two friends alongside himself.

             “What are you yakking about? We hardly ever get rest, Cush!” Mentora slithered out of the cave, her three eyes droopy and her tail sagging as her head was barely kept upright on her snake-like body.  

             Mentora was the Mental Instability Monster. Though she was the last born thus far of the three, she had more brain capacity, and therefore knew substantially more than the other two. She took the form of a large snake with a lioness head, complete with a strangely feminine-looking mane along with two horns that sprouted peacefully from her head. She had three eyes that glowed white like the rest of her body, and had little swirly patterns in her retinas that constantly rotated. She threw her head back and yawned as Pascal crawled out of the cave alongside her.

             Pascal was the Emotional Turmoil Monster. The single eye on his otherwise blank face changed color with how he was feeling like a mood ring. The fuzzy rainbow fur along his long neck came to an abrupt end when it met his shoulders with feathers sprouting from the rest of the base of his body instead. The feathers had their own mood-ring fix, but would only turn the color of his eye if Pascal felt that emotion very strongly. Four, glass-like wings sprouted along his lengthy spine, and sat peacefully on his back. His six, grey, dragon-like legs moved in sync like clockwork machinery as his short, stumped tail twitched with curiosity.

             “A new… manifestation?” He asked shyly, his eye turning an orangish-yellow.

             “Yeah… actually you’re right Cush, that is the call for a new creature… but how could that be? I was only born a few millennia ago… what element could we be missing?” Mentora raised her eyebrows as she cocked her head to the side.

             “Let’s go find out!” Cush started to run despite the difficulty with his short legs, so happy that he had identified the call correctly with the other two in tow.

             The Eternity Crystal glowed a brilliant combination of colors- some not even known to humans- as its vibrations were sent through the ground and air, the soft voom of its call echoing along mountain where it stood. The three approached it carefully, and like all the other times a creature had been born, the crystal momentarily cracked open, booting a small form out into the light.

             “Is it a… puppy?” Cush guessed, his round ears twitching.

             “Not entirely… It looks like it has two faces…” Pascal murmured worriedly as his eye turned a light shade of purple.

             Mentora stayed silent, watching and analyzing as the tiny figure tried to get to its feet, its two pairs of eyes blinking open to show one pair pink and the other purple, much like the creature’s fur…

             “Why is it having such a hard time standing up?” The Pain Monster questioned as the three observed the small figure trying to get up and failing multiple times.

             “Because it has too many limbs! Look!” Pascal exclaimed, using one of his clear, glass-like wings to point at the small creature as his eye flashed a bright, blinding red and yellow design.

             It was true; the new manifestation had two sets of four legs on either side of its body, as well as two sets of wings and two tails.

             “It probably doesn’t even know what’s right-side-up right now…” Mentora commented thoughtfully, sniffing the small form as it tried to decide which set of eyes would be gazing upside-down.

             “Hey! Pink side! Try to stand up!” Cush called enthusiastically, trying to give the monster an easier solution.

             Hearing this, the pink side finally took initiative and stood “right-side-up” while the purple was stuck on the bottom.

             And that is how it stayed for most of Lucaja’s life. Debaja barley got any affection, just because she wasn’t very well-liked, unlike her sister, Lucia. Debaja was seen by most as too rough for a comfort monster. The other three had been surprised that Lucaja wasn’t actually a manifestation monster like the rest of them. She was, instead, a comfort monster to help balance out the damage caused by the others; whenever creatures couldn’t deal with them on their own. However, she could only be summoned at night, and only if either an individual was alone, or was with a group that was equally as tired as they were. This gave her the name of Sleep Deprivation Monster; the soft spot in the group.

 It had been a thousand millennia, and, after giving it some though, Debaja finally decided to confront her sister. She was sick of being the unfavored one- she was literally dying from it! She had to talk to Lucia.

             …

             “Look, it’s not my fault!” Cush heard a high-pitched voice cry from inside his head. His eyes widened at the harshness in the tone as he looked around to see if he could find the two-faced monster.  

             Lucaja, since her jaw was interlocked between two different heads, could only speak in telepathy. She usually tried to keep her sentences as minimal as possible, since Mentora had told her that if she tried to have a full-blown conversation with a real being, it would make their head literally explode. But in the Land of the Infinite, Lucaja didn’t have to limit her diction.

             “No, it’s not, but you could at least help! I’ve been starving forever now! Don’t you think you could give me a little attention?” Debaja’s voice hissed back and the weak crack in her voice echoed as Cush whined.

             “But I can’t waste my energy, Debaja. I have to be there for those who need me-”

             “I NEED YOU!” Cush covered his head and whimpered at the screeching cry… it had been so loud his ears were ringing from the inside. The Pain Monster was about to call the others for help when a familiar form slithered past.

             “Mentora?”

             “Cush, come.”

             “What about Pascal?”

             “I SAID COME! NOW!” The urgency in the Mental Instability Monster’s tone threw the porcupine-like creature off his bum and onto his legs, desperately trying to keep up with the smooth, swift form as his ears rang louder.

             The scene both of them were met with when they reached the top of the hill was appalling, to say the least.

             Lucaja had slit into her two relative parts. Lucia and Debaja now had their own separate bodies. Lucia had a pink, full-grown, healthy-looking body, smooth skin shining in the sunlight as the fur on certain parts of her body grew thick and luscious, her bright pink feathers filed neatly. Her form was an eye-spitting comparison to Debaja’s who’s bones were showing through her skin as her pink eyes were sunk into her skull. Her skin and fur were patchy and uneven, and her feathers were bent all the wrong ways; some were even falling off, making her look more dead than alive.

             “Why can’t you be there for me?! Even just a little?!” Debaja spat and wheezed as Lucia recoiled.

             Strangely, with their forms separated, they could now use their own jaws, and didn’t need telepathy.

             “Why can’t you just drop it? Thousand millennia go by, and SUDDENLY you say you’ve needed me this whole time??” The pink side stood her ground and grinded her teeth, tail lashing. “If this is really a big deal, why is it popping up JUST now?? That’s not how you handle big problems, Debaja!”

             “Then you must understand how hard this is for me!” The purple side sobbed out and clutched her chest, her heartbeat terrifyingly visible through her skin. “You get all the attention and love! Sure, you share, but I need some directly! With how much you love giving to our patients, can’t you give some directly to me??”

             “Quit being so selfish! Come on, let’s just get back together and go back to the way things were! You feed off of my achievements. If we fuse back together, you’ll feel better! Please, you look so frail… let’s just stop this!” Lucia took a step forward, purple gaze softening as she tried to calm her sister down. Everything had been going so perfect, why did Debaja have to throw a big fit now?

             “NO!” Debaja screeched and turned around, whole body shaking as she refused to look at her twin. “If I really mean so little to you… then I’m going somewhere else! You can deal with the imbalance on your own! Like I have!”

             Lucia stood in shock as she watched her sister stagger and disappear into another realm. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her breathing became uneven. She suddenly realized two of her friends staring from the hill behind her.

             “W-what are you looking at?!” She shouted defensively as Cush took a few fearful steps back. “What are you even doing here?!”

             “Lucia, your thoughts aren’t flowing correctly, your head is in a whirlpool of insecurity and destabilization. Why else do you think I’m here?” Mentora hissed, her aura glowing brighter with Lucia’s growing panic.

             “N-no! I’m fine! Sh-she’s fine!” The pink half trembled as the Mental Instability Monster slithered closer, her three, swirly eyes narrowed in anger as her lip twitched into a snarl.

             “L-Lucia… what did you do?” Cush tentatively called from the top of the hill, too scared to get any closer.

             A stake went through the pink side’s heart. Cush had never talked to her like that.

             “I-I’m not the bad guy here!” She shouted angrily, causing the cute porcupine creature to hide behind the edge of the hill, gentle whining being heard from the other side. “I’m not the bad guy! I’m not!”

             “Oh, and who is? Debaja?” Mentora spat as her snake tail lashed back and forth.

             It was no secret that Mentora cared for Debaja more than Lucia. Lucia was the easy option most people chose, whenever Lucaja had to comfort someone. A shoulder to cry on, a smile on her lips, Lucia was the positive reinforcement that everyone preferred. Yet Mentora knew more than anyone else that Debaja was the more efficient choice. Yes, she also comforted her patients, but she also gave them a good slap of reality. Lucia makes her subjects dependent on her and others, hardly giving them anything real to stabilize their soul; while Debaja teaches the person to rely on themselves, and deal with reality on their own; only then would they be strong enough to find true happiness. But you see- most people don’t like to hear that. That’s why the purple side was almost never chosen. Making her suffer while her sister got all the spoils of laughter or comfort that rose from the patient.

             “Wh-where’s Pascal?” Lucia finally broke the silence, not daring to look into Mentora’s three enraged eyes.

             “Probably with Debaja.” The Mental Instability Monster replied coldly before slithering away to comfort Cush, leaving the pink half to think over what she had done…

@cefsticklestoo @bexxbeauty

Let me know if you want to be added to the overall taglist!

[kalico-to-the-letter]

REVIEW // RWBY | 6.4 | “SO THAT’S HOW IT IS”

AKA the first time ever I wished I could be Qrow, just for a brief moment of hand-throwing.

Welcome in to my review of Volume 6, Chapter 4, entitled “So That’s How It Is”.

In this episode: A broken man gets torn to shreds. The hornets’ nest regroups.

Mention that man’s name in her presence, and be afraid.

EVERYBODY HATES OZ

How close are you to being so totally done with Oz? Is it as much as Team RWBY and Qrow in this episode, who seem like they would tie him to a snowy tree were he not inhabiting the body of an innocent kid? Or is it as much as Salem, who brutally killed him in a past life and now breaks her windows at the mention of his name?

I wrote last week that the shedding of light on Oz’s history would help his character in the long run, and that it was necessary to put the heat on him now so that we can properly invest in his redemption and invest in him as being a hero among Qrow and the RWBY girls.

The short term pain, however, is another matter. Cutting and running – pretty much slamming his bedroom door and locking it – does him no favours. Not that it’s meant to, mind you – with how Qrow and the girls react to him in this episode, the show gives us a clear direction on how we should feel about this guy, and I’d say it’s pretty spot on.

I understand it must be difficult for him, to be confronted by a past and these truths he surely expected to remain buried, but he’s not taking responsibility for anything in this situation. He’s sent our heroes on this reactionary suicide mission to gather up the Relics, without any articulable vision of the end goal. He knows he needs to take down Salem, but no vision of how to do it, beyond – I’m guessing – appealing to the Gods once the Relics are gathered up, even though they specifically said that Salem needed to be dealt with for humanity to survive their judgement.

Just think back on all his past moments of wisdom and guidance. Now forget all of it, because Oz’s credibility is entirely shot now. A monumental effort is required to rebuild it, in the eyes of these characters and us viewers alike. In this situation, we are Yang, and we are Qrow – that is to say, we are monumentally pissed off at this guy right now, and “sympathetic” is not the first word that comes to my mind when I think of Oz. Remove the s, y, and m, and that’s more like it.

Again, this is all short-term pain. I have no doubt that he’ll redeem himself – because otherwise there’s no point to him being a protagonist – and this is a step on that journey.

It will swallow the characters around him, and that’s another double-edged issue. One thing I’ve noticed is the growing tension and disharmony surrounding Team RWBY ever since the premiere – not that they were all in sync in that episode, but there was a clear unity around them. Since getting blasted off the mountain, revolving their characters around Oz has cast a progressively negative feeling around the group – something that Maria pointed out in this episode. Remember that it’s only been two weeks since the battle at Haven – not enough time to unpack the baggage and underlying issues in these relationships. It is not inconceivable that the increasingly negative influence of Oz forces conflict among the girls individually, and we get some juicy character drama out of it – which, when you think about it, would be new for these girls. Yang is ten shades of furious right now, while Blake and Weiss are dispirited. Meanwhile Ruby, who was just starting to get her leadership feet under her, has to try to keep everyone going. Is that beef I smell in the campfire?

This is how paragons fall. A character that we initially see as cool and all-powerful and all-knowing is now broken, a puddle in the snow. And because of that, the heroes’ victory at Haven suddenly feels more like a step over the edge that can’t be walked back. Instead of emerging triumphant, it now feels more like they just kicked the hornets’ nest.

And when I think about that – this kind of semi-arc that began in the Volume 5 finale and has gotten to this point – this episode, as short and seemingly filler as it is, takes on a very real and unexpected significance.

OBSERVATIONS:

I got Volume 4 vibes from this episode, particularly with the RWBY girls. The mood and emotions here are sharper than they were back then, but the combination of the plot and setting and the overall greyness in this episode brings it back a bit – which I don’t mind, because I liked the moodiness of Volume 4.

A correction to an oversight I had last week, in regards to Salem and Ozma’s daughters. Of course I saw the Four Maidens thing, because we’ve all had that lore drummed into our heads to make it obvious enough. The direction of the scene implied that they were killed during their parents’ fight, at least to me. What I oversaw was the transference of power angle – which, I know, they used to build a lot of Seasons 3 and 4, but I didn’t make that connection in the moment. Of course, it’s entirely possible that they were killed and their Maidenhood transferred – but, given the established rules of the transference, which is not the same as reincarnation, to whom and how did it happen? It’s unclear, and it would be a shame if this thread is never resolved.

I didn’t discuss it in my main review, but I would be wrong to omit any discussion of the antagonists’ storyline in this episode. It is the first time we’ve seen anything of Salem’s crew (sans Cinder) this season, and it was smart to feature Salem immediately after last week’s story. Already, a couple of interesting things are popping up in this storyline. On the minutiae side, and I expected this, there is something markedly new about her portrayal – a greater depth, but not enough for her to seem radically different.

I despised Tyrian in Volume 4, more than any character in the history of this show. Last week, I talked about how great it was to get Salem out of the Cartoonish Villain territory. The week before, I flagged the appearance of the Miss Malachite character in Cinder’s story as a potential Cartoonish Villain and all the irritation that she might bring. And now Tyrian’s back? And intimating that he be the one to go after the heroes this time around? Hell no, fam.

It’s worth remembering just how badly Cinder messed up. She rushed headlong and arrogant into a fight with someone she completely underestimated.

The other side is that this storyline is already determined to position Emerald as its focal point. It makes sense: she looked up to Cinder, and coming to understand how Cinder failed creates a genuine conflict within her. What would happen, for instance, if she were to see Cinder again? How would that make her feel? Would it be closer to an Ilia-Blake situation, or an Adam-Blake situation? I find it personally interesting, just because I’ve always stopped short of forming a definitive idea or opinion about Emerald’s character beyond her attachment to Cinder, and this direction could be really promising for her, based on her performance in this episode.

GRADE: B+

Don’t let the short runtime fool you – “So That’s How It Is” marks a moment of reflection for RWBY’s recent and distant history. Not only does it represent the complete destruction of Ozpin’s credibility, but it also forces Team RWBY into a serious reality check – one that could lead to key fractures in their relationship as a unit. It effectively repositions Salem going forward while introducing Emerald as a focal character, and forces a shift in perspective on what last season’s Battle of Haven truly meant for this story. – KALLIE

[hypeathon]

RWBY - Volume 6, Chapter 13 Production Analysis

Previous Volume 6 Production Analysis Posts:

Chapters one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven & twelve

When starting this production analysis series, three goals were kept in mind: 1) To disspell any potential misconceptions and myths about RWBY’s production, 2) to help add more depth and nuance to discussions about the production since some fans out there do care enough to talk about it, and 3) to highlight how various members of the staff have helped carry on certain aspects of the vision meant to be applied to this show. When the late creator of the show, the writers most closely associated with the show’s story, and almost every animator, storyboard artist, modeler, camera layout artist, rigging artist compositor, VFX artist, sound designer, etc., have all been passionate about the medium of anime and have applied that passion into crafting this ongoing anime-inspired project, why not give them all credit where credit is due, especially for this specific occasion?

As with all other prior analysis posts, this one is intended to put forth as much insight and context of the behind-the-scenes as possible. That said, since the volume 6 finale chapter follows the tradition of every other volume finale, expect things to be a bit more “shot-in-the-dark” than usual. Since volume 3, the ending credits of every other episode will usually list the names of those that were involved in that episode. Sometimes, names of certain people from certain departments will change depending on whether someone is being assigned to work on something a few episodes later or because that person is possibly preoccupied with another big project at Rooster Teeth Animation like Gen:Lock at around the same time. However, the ending credits for the volume finale are setup to list literally everyone that was involved throughout, even those that were otherwise non-credited from those with specialized roles to the families, children and pets of individual members of the production staff under “Special Thanks” and “Additional Security”. Combine that with no one in the animation and storyboard teams having mentioned who did what, there will be a lot more guesswork involved.

That’s not to say there was nothing to acknowledge about this episode, far from from it actually. To see how, let’s dive right in the Neo and Cinder scene. One of the first things of note that has not been mentioned elsewhere yet is Neo’s materialization effect. This has been done once before in chapter 11 of volume 3, but like with Yang’s semblance, the approach has changed with more nuance. By close observation, the way she previously materialized may have been done in a manner where one character model was layered on top of the other with the same exact pose and a wipe effect was used through the light emitted with another layer of the shattered pieces added. In comparison, Neo’s semblance in this chapter is a bit more elaborate. The supposed character model layering trick is still there, but what was once a more simple wipe with some pink lighting is now an empty space with a lot of fractal pieces swirling with the brighter colored ones in the middle. The effect also extends to Roman’s hat on Neo (assuming that was his hat) and the tips of pieces of the Mistralian ship as it transforms into an Atlessian one.

Then there’s the matter of the new designs for Neo and Cinder. Again, since the volume 6 finale did the ending credits differently, that also means that no concept art was shown, so there are no notes regarding the matter. It doesn’t help either that there is no known concept art of Neo in particular throughout the show’s history in general, partly due to how her model was originally conceived a mere 10 days prior to her first appearance in volume 2. However, right before volume 6 premiered, the key visual art made by concept artist, Einlee appeared which featured a silhouetted character with peculiar claw-like left hand in front of the head of the Sphinx Grimm. Many fans have quickly speculated that it was Cinder but the context of the appearance was kept vague. It’s now clear as to why that was the case considering how much Cinder’s new attire matches that of silhouette. What’s most curious about this design is how much a certain accessory has been kept between her main designs in volumes 1-3 and volumes 4 & 5, that being the “iridescent feathers” which have been kept towards her right side in varied places. That and her black crystal earrings and anklets have been mostly exclusive to her base designs and not present in any of her past, alternate incognito designs which have been designed by volume 2 art director, Kristina Nguyen, current art director Patrick Rodriguez and lead concept artist, Erin Winn. However, her two main designs that come with both of those accessories were done by Einlee and become increasingly darker in their color schemes to her now fully black outfit. As for why this specific design was in the poster when it didn’t officially make an appearance until this episode is hard to say, but it’s possible that on some level, this was an attempt to throw off fans from guessing too easily where things will turn out as they would theorize. How successful that was however is a whole other matter.

Putting that aside, as well as an extra mention of the choice of rim lighting for the setting and the little bits of animation that show off Cinder and Neo’s differing characteristics, we can move on to the main event regarding the Leviathan Grimm... or Levi, or Bubbles or whatever its nickname is suppose to be. Similar to Neo and Cinder, there were no concept designs of the character to dissect from, but it is clearly safe to say that the character was inspired by kaiju of the tokusatsu or “special filming” genre in Japan. Tokusatsu is basically used to describe any live-action films or shows that utilize a series of special/practical effects, one of which being having a stuntman portray a giant creature of mech or some other variation inside a suit, otherwise referred to as “suitmation.” The fall 2018 anime, SSSS Gridman, served as an example of simulating that feeling to a great degree through the way the creatures and for the most part, Gridman were animated in 3-D. Co-writer Miles Luna has gone on record before about being a big fan of the Godzilla franchise, having grown up watching them with his father, so it would not be the least bit surprising if the Leviathan Grimm was his idea. The way it was animated seems to strike this balance between how Godzilla and other kaiju have been depicted in live-action Japanese films while also making it believably feel like a part of the world of RWBY. Another noteworthy bit regarding the Grimm and how it moves is the way it dives down into the water and then rises back up from it slightly later in the episode. This is not so much to do with animation as it has to do with the use of visual effects and compositing, but parts such as the Leviathan’s silhouette underwater are especially interesting since that has rarely happened in the show prior. The only other comparable instance that springs to mind is when the Nuckelavee appears from the smoke in the volume 4 finale and there may have been a similar compositing trick. The other thing of note was the water effects which are depicted much more realistic compared to when say, Cordovin shot at Ruby and Weiss in chapter 11 which that giant splash was done in 2-D or when splashes are done via more cel-shaded 3-D visual effects.

There is more to talk about regarding the Godzilla inspired Grimm, but first, let’s rewind back slightly to bits of character acting. Despite being unsure of who did these moments, the transition from Cordovin feeling frustrated to feeling incapable of doing anything was very convincing, as well as the scene with Blake, Yang and Ruby right after and then. Of course, Blake’s ears was part of the reason for the latter as when we hear Ruby off-screen, her right ear shifts and then a bit later we see them perk up after she, Weiss and Yang talk to Maria. Even though certain animators like Asha Bishi and Hannah Novotny took more advantage of the rigs for the cat ears than others back in volume 4, a lot more animators have since then been increasingly been more conscious about having that be a part of Blake’s character acting. Speaking of rigs, the rigging artists, along with the audio and tech teams, can be considered the unsung heroes of the ever-growing staff. Lead rigging artist, Gio Coutinho and fellow rigging artists, Brian Eby and Ariana Fillipini may be one of the smallest teams and are hardly mentioned throughout these production analyses, certain animators such as Kim Newman have gone on record to owing them for providing what are essentially the virtual skeleton and bones of the character. As talented as the animators are, they can only do so much with the character models unless they are as “animatable” as possible to quote volume 5 lead rigging artist Sean Stephenson on the 6th episode of CRWBY - Behind the Episode, who is now the current lead of the rigging team for Gen:Lock.

We then get some effects of the hard-light dust barriers being implemented and are timed pretty effectively through some slow-in and slow out animations along with the use of lighting towards the start of the barrier as the hard-light shifts from one pole to the other. Next is more homage to Godzilla by having the Leviathan breathe out its version of the atomic ray (there’s a lot of them in the franchise). Between the first instance and the next one when the main party attempted to close in, there is actually a combination of certain lightning and fire effects such as the same animations for the swelling ball of energy used whenever Cordovin was about to fire lightning dust, as well as sparks surrounding the fire breath with some seemingly blurred compositing layered on top. There is also a neat recoil animation with the Grimm as it unleashes its attack. In between all of this though is a scene of Ruby putting forth her plan within the airship. The timing and facial reactions presented by everyone felt similar to that of when Jaune announced his idea to steal the Atlas airship in chapter 9 which was animated by Hannah McCravy, so it’s possible that she may have animated this scene too. Whether she animated the entirety of said-scene though is what I’m more uncertain of.

Skipping ahead a bit, we get to Ruby preparing to use her silver eyes by getting the music being more subdued and getting quick cuts to the things going on around her. I nice touch here was having Ruby’s mouth twitch a bit right when her name gets called out through her ear piece. Then again, what’s really surprising is the fact there was an ear piece model at all. Back in chapters 10-12, we saw quite a bit of the main cast using gestures with their fingers by their ears as if there was a device they were using the listen to each other. However, the device in question was never really shown up until now. One educated guess could be that there never was one until this small scene here where it needed to be made and shown in order to see Ruby attempt to remain focused. Now comes what is part of the highlight of the episode being Ruby’s memories which are mostly redrawn shots from various cuts in the series with parts of characters like arms, legs, hair and in Zwei’s case, his tail being movable (and his butt having an actual x-marked "hole”). There were also certain details implemented such as the lighting being more comparably warmer and the line work in certain characters hair, clothing and in Nora’s case, her biceps being slightly more defined. Many fans by now have already concluded that due to the show’s visual presentation of its first few volumes not having aged that well back when Poser was the main animation software that the choice for 2-D art was shown instead. That would not at all be a wrong assumption to make. However, even the one shot with Jaune in the forest in chapter 2 of volume 4, back when RWBY transitioned to using Maya and 3DS Max was entirely redrawn. The same goes for Oscar and Ruby in the training room during chapter 5 of volume 5 which seems to have been slightly redrawn but to more with adjusted lighting. So the choice was not limited to anything prior to them using the two softwares. The one clear exception to this ensemble set of shots was of Maria back during chapter 8 of volume 6. Admittedly, it was tricky figuring out who did all of the redrawn shots, especially since not all of them seem to have been done by the same person. The shot with Qrow and Ruby in particular sticks out as being more different. It may be that Erin Winn did most of the shots since the way she draws lines for hair like with Yang being similar that of the line work for Kali Belladonna’s concept art, which she designed. As for Qrow and Ruby meeting, that may have been Patrick Rodriguez.

One other thing to note in these series of shots were the sound effects used during them. Sound designer, Philip Spann described the change of the sound of the memory flashes to Pyrrha and Penny as being the equivalent of viewers “being hit in the gut”, using large reverberant drums. Conversely, sound was applied  a little differently during the the latter set of memory flashes, namely “pulling the music back” as Philip phrased it when seeing Summer Rose which was Kerry Shawcross’s idea. Now, in-between all of this, there was a bit of Ruby and Jinn interacting with each other. While I’m uncertain as to who animated it, it may be the same person that animated Ruby and Weiss’s interaction at the bar room during chapter 5 of volume 6. With that mention out of the way, there’s the first reveal of a fulled rigged and animated model of Summer. There were a couple of noteworthy design choices, the first being how her clothing more or less resembles Ruby’s current outfit while hairstyle is more varied in appearance. The other thing of note is her eyes. According to Kerry Shawcross on the season 2 finale of RWBY Rewind, characters with silver eyes have a small “tick”, referring to the small white dashes on their eyes whereas characters like Mercury who have been confused for having silver eyes, don’t. This is something Kerry admitted as being an oversight at first when needing to differentiate between such characters and their visual traits.

Next is when Ruby unleashes her silver eyed powers which involves the same hatch-lining effects which have not been used since the Wyvern Grimm in chapter 12. Skipping ahead to when the Leviathan is still moving, we get Cordovin who believes in the Ruby that believes in her. In all seriousness, just as how it was likely that Miles Luna anticipated the Levianthan Grimm as a fan of Godzilla, Kerry very likely planned for the moment Cordovin utilized her mech’s drill feature as a big fan of Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. To put this all in perspective, Gurren Lagann was an anime Monty Oum introduced him to as a fan of the show himself back around the time they and Miles started forming ideas and outlines for RWBY’s story in the midst of Red vs Blue season 10 production in 2012. It was even among the various anime that Monty had him and Miles study as inspiration for RWBY. Fast forward to over a year later in August of 2013 and Kerry mentioned being on his sixth viewing of the show.

“Toppa Tengen Gurren Lagann is probably my all time favorite anime. It just has a level of energy and enthusiasm I enjoy. There are subtle (and not so subtle) lessons in Gurren Lagann about not giving up; energy that persists beyond oneself that I apply to RWBY.”  - Monty Oum, Crunchyroll

Having said that, the scene itself gained the most criticism out of the whole episode from the fan base due to the frame rate when Cordovin attacked the Leviathan. Obviously the choice to lower the frame rate two 2s and 3s was a creative one given the likely homage previous mentioned. However, the matter of frame rate in 3-D animation will never cease to be a delicate subject matter with the creative decision leading to varying results from project-to-project and leaving different responses from viewer-to-viewer. As much as these analyses are dedicated to providing any objective insight about RWBY’s production whenever possible and making educated guesses in-between, whether the frame rate felt right, is up to you, the reader. Speaking personally, since the visual choice revolved around a character whose recurring animation and camerawork has been often depicted as over-the-top and dramatic, it only felt fitting. Speaking of dramatic, when Ruby and Cordovin face each other, there is an interesting fast zoom between the two before amends are made between them.

Once all has died down, we get a scene with quite a bit of rim lighting to help emphasize on the night time setting. The animation of the scene itself and how the characters are timed to do a small pause before each gesture was akin to that of the beginning of chapter 8 with the main party and Cordovin and in chapter 2 when team RWBY were all arguing with Ozpin, both of which were largely animated by Nicole LaCroix. Everything from when everyone talked to Ruby about her bold decision-making to when the cast sees Atlas and the Kingdom’s air fleet were probably animated by her. Whether or not that’s true, certain instances like Weiss’s concerning facial expression when seeing the air fleet were quite nuanced. One last thing to talk about regarding the scene are the matte paintings of Atlas, made by one of the environment designers, Weston T. Jones, who apparently contributed quite a bit throughout the volume in terms of what is shown in the final product. With that said, the ending credits themselves have some interesting positions only seen here that are not shown in earlier volumes. This is nothing new, as the volume 5 finale ending credits had a team of crowd animators which was not previously listed throughout every other episode of that volume. In this case however, positions such as matte painters and script consultants were exclusive to the finale credits this time around. Also, side note, Dustin Matthews and Kim Newman credited among the series animators even though they were never credited on any episode this volume and have been dedicating time working on Gen:Lock as that series’ animation director and lead animator respectively. Maybe he was credited for providing bits of motion capture?

Finally, there’s the after credits scene which actually has a fair bit to touch on, one of which being the forming of new “flying monkey” grimm. Aside from it being another nod to The Wizard of Oz, there seems to also be the sound of the Nevermore cries layered beneath the Beringel roars a bit. Accompanying the scene is some intriguing framing of Emerald and Mercury by the broken windows and then Hazel being framed with them a bit later. This is actually very similar to the opening scene in volume 4 before Cinder called them over, so it’s possible this was done by design to indicate the shift in who they find themselves sticking with. Lastly, Salem summons the pools of black in the form of some 2-D effects animation to end the scene and thus wrap-up the volume as a whole. As said in the previous analysis, there’s no clear indication of when production of volume 6 ended between departments. However, Miles Luna confirmed in a podcast interview with Chad James on the “Lights, Camera: Austin” website that the outline phase for RWBY volume 7′s story started as of January 21st. Combine that with how Neath Oum confirmed that there was still something leftover that never made it into the volume 6 finale and it’s clear that Kerry and Miles are itching to tell the next installment of RWBY’s ongoing story.

That officially marks the end of the chapter 13 production analysis, as well as the production analysis series for this entire volume as a whole. To say that this was a strenuous process would be putting it mildly, as a lot of searching and fact-checking information of the show’s production, past and present and forming it into as cohesive of a narrative as possible each chapter, each week, was definitely more of an ordeal. This was all a lot fun to do and some of this would have not been as doable without much needed help. A tremendous thanks to Changyuraptor over on the RWBY Sub-Reddit for being as gung-ho about updating his Source McGourse document every week to confirm who animated which sequences every week which greatly helped with better understanding how certain animators approached doing what they did. A big thanks also goes to MyAmelia on the RWBY Sub-Reddit who provided some very constructive, much-needed advice for both this Tumblr page and its posts to help potentially attract more viewers. There are still some kinks to work out, but I’m very much bearing in mind the feedback. Speaking of which, a big thanks also goes out to the following who have been very eager and provided great feedback about seeing these analysis, both on tumblr and on reddit:

Duelverse

Achro-o

HighPriestFuneral

i-am-the-entertainer

htgeehtgee

lordess-dickery-doof

yellow-eyed-green-crocodile

ladychaosstudios

And everyone else whose names I’ve otherwise neglected to add here that have been avidly reading these analyses. Finally, a grand shout-out to Kerry Shacross and Miles Luna for continuing to do great work, as well as every member of the CRWBY in every department, new and veteran for putting as much time, effort and skill into their respective crafts for making the show look, sound and feel the way it volume 6 did. They all did an overall hell of an amazing job. Among these members I wish to thank especially are animator Asha Bishi, storyboard and camera layout artist Rachel Doda and 2-D FX Artist, Myke Chapman, who have each decided to follow some random, awkward fan on Tumblr that spent perhaps a bit too much time obsessing over the production of this show. Thank you guys so much.

[imagine-marvelously]

Behind the Mask: The Ways to Repair

Pairing: OC x Loki

Word count: 1,892

Timeline: Three weeks after the first meeting

Summary: Loki takes up the shop owner on her proposition. 

<Previous> (Current) <Next>

“You didn’t blow up,” Estella muses from atop the desk, watching as Loki walks inside her shop, much more casual clothes than normal on. A pair of black joggers, a white t-shirt, and a green zip-up hoodie. Very nice. 

“The directions were quite clear and I am a very good sorcerer,” Loki defends, stepping carefully over Jungo and Ace who are very adamant about sleeping right near the entrance today. Then again, the shop is usually closed today and the pair loves to pretend to be big scary protectors. 

“You are a very good one, for what you know, I agree.” 

She swings her legs back and forth a bit, anxious to get started. It won’t be long before people will be able to tell that Loki is in New York - and more importantly frequents a magic shop - and magic folk of all sorts will begin to come in. Masking needs to be done. 

Loki finally makes it over to her, amused to see her in gray sweatpants instead of jeans. Her hair also pulled back - a French braid pulled tight and clearly meant to be straight, but slightly leaning to the right. Though her t-shirt and flannel top hasn’t changed, her eyes are framed by gold-colored, thin, round glasses. The color nicely brings out the deep brown, but the glasses themselves are a bit too big for her face. A little silly looking to Loki. Eccentric too. 

“Do you wear contacts normally?” Loki smiles lightly to avoid a giggle. 

“I may be a powerful witch but that doesn’t mean my eyesight is perfect!”

“Wouldn’t you know a spell that could, I don’t know, fix that?” He suggests, throwing his arms with his shrug. 

Estella jumps off the desk, arms crossed in protest. “I very much like my glasses. Now c’mon, We have work to do.”

The girl turns quickly, her flannel splaying out wide and smacking Loki lightly. He follows behind her closely. 

At first he thinks she is just bring him to the shelves again, they are going up those gods awful stairs, but upon reaching the top, Estella holds her hand against a seemingly random place in the wall beside them. Loki watches as the wall slowly swings open, revealing an entirely new room. 

Estella begins to step inside, her cats dashing past her first. She huffs at them; they always want to be everywhere first. But she proceeds anyway, Loki right behind her again. As they enter the door shuts quietly behind them. 

The room is large, dark, and filled with relics and artifacts, not unlike the Sanctum. Potions sit along either side of the wall, shelves all the way from the floor to the ceiling, some glowing, some steaming, some… squirming? Loki blinks slowly at that. He’s seen lots of bottled potions, but never one that squirms quite like that. And definitely not 30 of them. 

Desks and tables are also everywhere, boxes stacked on top of each other and the desks and strewn everywhere. Books inside them, books outside them, books precariously balancing on top of… nothing? Cauldrons, bits of trees, crystals and gemstones, and other ingredients of any sort strewn, well, everywhere. All save but the very middle where there is a perfect circle, illuminated by the waning moon. 

Loki doesn’t realize he has stopped to observe the room until Estella calls his name. He looks to where her voice is coming from to see her all the way across the room. 

“Are you coming or not? I don’t have all night unfortunately and my cats are about to claw down the next door themselves.”

The two cats meow, eyes glaring yellow in the dim lit as they turn to look at Loki. He walks over, strides wide. It’s as he walks he notices the glimmer in the walls, so small and barely noticeable, but visible in the low moonlight. It’s not the same purple color his is, it’s a rainbow of shades. A very, very strong masking indeed. 

“Good, now, for this next one, just so it doesn’t kill you, I’m going to need your blood,” Estella smiles. 

“You’re going to need my what now?” Loki asks, eyes wide in bewilderment. 

“Your blood, thank you.” 

Before he can respond, Estella has already cut is left palm straight across. Her left pointer finger swipes across it, taking what she needs and healing it at the same time. When the palm is all healed she drops his hand. Loki picks it up in his right, interested in the immediate healing she did. 

Estella presses her pointer finger to the small crevice in the wood designed for her finger print. With his blood on top, the enchantment on the door will allow him through. She enjoys him to much to let this be his demise. 

The small wooden slides open, Jungo and Ace scampering in. Estella steps in as well; she turns quickly, however, knowing that the God is likely still distracted. 

“Loki, c’mon!” 

Loki jumps at her voice. “Yes, sorry.”

He steps through the threshold and the door slides shut. 

This time the room is surprisingly bright for the late time of night; candles adorning approximately every foot and a half of the wall. To the right is a small kitchen with a wooden table that could fit four people around it and only one chair. Straight ahead is a door and what looks like a porch. To the left is a small living room area, complete with two worn down old love seats, a very old Persian rug, and a very small coffee table. Much like the room previous, books and ingredients are everywhere. This room has windows, however: three in the living area, one in the kitchen about the sink, and two beside the door, skinnier than the rest.

“Are we in New York?” Loki inquires, walking closer to the door across from him. 

Estella bites her lip to suppress a grin. “No, we aren’t. We are in possibly one of my favorite places in the universe.”

Loki presses his face against the glass of the window on the door. The night sky is dark, dark enough to see all the stars. But they are the stars of Midgard. So where on Midgard could be her favorite place?

“Where?”

“Bottom of the Grand Canyon, just outside of the national park. It’s just so dark here.”

Loki removes himself from the glass. While he wants to make a snarky remark about Midgard wonders, the reflection of Estella prevents him. She is happy, content, her face relaxed. He turns slowly to face her. 

She is holding a book she did not walk in with, likely one she conjured while he stared outside. It looks a lot like the one she left on his bed, leather bound, clearly a journal of some sort, and well used. This one is much larger. Estella clutches it to her chest like it matters more than anything in the world. 

“Ready?” She asks, her eyes filled with excitement. 

“Where do you want me?” Loki replies. The innuendo he just made escapes even his mind a moment.

“The floor.” Estella pauses. “Move the table. We need more room.”

“Would you like me naked as well?” Loki teases. “Or would you like to do that part yourself?” 

“Just, move the table.” Estella shifts the book to one arm, gesturing the left one towards the living area. “If I wanted you naked, you’d already be so.” 

Loki goes to move the table, Jungo and Ace meowing loudly up at Estella. She glares down at them. The two of them love to annoy her. Just love it. 

“Hey, you two, go find a mouse or something,” she commands, the door of the room and the porch flying open. The two go running out the doors with them shutting tight behind them. 

Loki watches. Simple magic, moving a door, but complex for it to follow those to cats specifically. Nothing like that on Asgard. He’ll have to learn that so doors can automatically slam into his brother’s face. 

Estella walks over to the living area before sitting on the carpet, back again the loveseat facing away from the windows. Loki looks to her, almost asking where to sit. She pats next to her. So the God sits beside her, leaving more room than he needs to, following her lead of leaning against the couch. 

“This is my personal spell book.” Estella presses her thumb to the lock. It clicks slowly as she continues on. “I have taken spells I know and combined them. But not quite like combining a mind control spell with a death spell. More like each individual overall magic type has the same set of spells. You can learn them all, individually, sure…” the book cover lifts open revealing the first page. “…but to learn a single spell, with the power of each magic type, makes it much more efficient and powerful. 

“For example, in masking. You were using a specific type of masking, correct?” Estella looks up to Loki who, while still staring at the book, nods his head. “Every type has there own versions of masking. For your specific version it is found in Asgardian, Earth Elven, Light Elven, Dark Elven, Fairy, Eldritch, several human types…” she begins to flip through the book. “… by keeping the overlaps of all these spells, you then are left with the individual pieces each type created. All it takes is some experimenting to get precisely what you need.” 

The book finally opens to masking. From what Loki can tell, it has several hundred pages on masking alone. The book grows as it is flipped through it seems, or not. He tilts his head. All the pages she flipped through are gone, save a few before. 

“People say master one type. The Grand Coven celebrates diversity in magic and says we should respect all types of magic. But what good is Earth Elven magic when some spells are useless against Fairy and Fae? What good is Asgardian magic if it is weak on Earth? Why separate the overall types when you can combine them and protect yourself from them all?”

Loki looks up to her. Estella no longer looks peaceful. She looks worried, eyebrows slightly furrowed, face tight. It’s impossible to see her forehead with her bangs, but he imagines there are worry lines all over it. But her eyes stay on the book, no matter how many times she clenches and unclenches her teeth. 

“So if I learn this, will you be able to tell it is me?” 

Estella relaxes just a little. “Yes, only because I can designed this particular masking spell and the one to read through it. But it will be very hard for others to. And I suggest a different kind of masking spell. Your attack was years ago, the animosity towards you is not here in New York. Confusing people will do nothing against those that will try to follow you.”

“Teach me what I need to know.” He places his left hand over her shaking right. 

Her head tilts to look at him. Though her brown eyes have not dropped the worry and anger, her face has. The shaking in her hands has also ceased. 

“I’ll teach you more than what you need to know.”

A/N: A bit short. Friday’s are fairytale Fridays now! Also, I’m moving into college tomorrow.