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deancaskiss · 3 years

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“I’m going outside,” Dean said, dropping a kiss to the top of Cas’ head as he walked past the ex-angel, who was sitting on the couch reading a book.

Cas’ eyes flickered up from the book to Dean’s face, and he smiled softly, tilting his head so Dean could peck him on the lips instead. When Cas pulled back, he took in Dean’s appearance. Red flannel shirt and jeans. He frowned, shifting his weight until he was angled more towards Dean. “You do know it’s snowing outside, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Dean hummed, sliding his fingers into Cas’ hair and slowly letting it glide between his fingertips. “We need some more wood for the fire,” Dean said with a shrug. And then, “I’ve never really been able to enjoy it. The snow, I mean. Even when we were kids we had to spend our time inside motel rooms instead of out in the snow. Just… want to enjoy nature.”

Cas cocked his head to the side, tilting until he could press a kiss to the inside of Dean’s wrist. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

Dean tugged Cas’ hair; not hard, just playfully. “Knock it off. I’ll be back in twenty minutes with more wood,” Dean said, motioning with his free hand to the fireplace, where the fire was slowly dwindling, loud crackles replaced by soft pops as the last of the wood gently burned.

“Take a coat. You’ll get sick,” Cas said, catching Dean’s hand as it slipped from his hair and softly squeezing Dean’s palm.

“My jacket’s all the way upstairs,” Dean said, making a face before giving Cas’ hand a quick squeeze; bending down to grab his boots.

“Dean. Dean,” Cas repeated, soft and urgent. “Jacket. Now. I don’t have powers to heal you if you get sick from the cold.”

Dean stuck out his tongue, dropping another quick kiss onto Cas’ temple before darting to the back door. “I’ll be fine. Love you,” he called, yanking the door open and sucking in a breath as the cold air blasted him. He didn’t wait for Cas’ response, which he knew would either be something exasperated or an ‘I love you, too.’

Instead, he grabbed his axe from where he’d left it on the porch and he trudged into the woods the house was settled into. The snow crunched under his boots, and he sighed in content. It was peaceful. The snow felt good as it slipped down into his hair and clung to his eyelashes.

For a blissful second, he contemplated just sitting and enjoying the gentle snowfall, but they really did need more wood; especially if he wanted cuddles with Cas in front of the fireplace.

Finding his pile of larger wood from the tree he’d chopped down last week, Dean set about to cut some of the larger chunks into smaller logs for the fire, humming under his breath as the snow continued to fall. This right here, this is what retirement was meant to be. It was everything he’d ever wanted and nothing he thought he’d ever deserve. Peace and serenity in the mountains, his husband at his side, still lending a helping hand to the hunter community when need-be.

And with the snow floating down from the sky, Dean knew peace. This is what he’d been hoping for. A white winter. His first time shoveling snow, which had been quite disastrous but still fun, and cutting firewood. Feeling the warmth seep into his bones from the fire after a long day out in the freezing snow. It was good. So good.

Until it wasn’t. One large glob of snow fell from the nearest tree, soaking Dean’s back and trickling down the open collar of his shirt. Shit. Cas had been right. He should have spent the extra two minutes grabbing his jacket. But it was too late now. He was out here, and he was almost done chopping enough wood to last them a couple days.

By the time he was done, he could barely get his fingers to move as he attempted to pick up the logs. Damn. Next time he needed thicker gloves. Heaving the haul back to the back porch felt like a living hell, and when he fumbled his hand on the door handle and the warm air from inside washed over him, he actually let out a quiet cry.

Cas looked up from his book, expression torn between pity and sheer I told you so.

The former won out though, because Cas quickly got up, grabbed the logs from Dean’s hand, and he motioned to his spot on the couch he’d just been sitting on. “Sit. I’ll get the fire going again and then I’ll warm you up.”

Dean did as directed, kicking his boots off and curling up into the warm spot on the couch. A second later, Cas was back, hauling a blanket over Dean before settling himself down on the couch; dragging Dean into his lap. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s back, drawing the blanket firmly around them until Dean was cocooned in warmth.

“I told you to get your jacket,” Cas mumbled against Dean’s ear.

Dean shivered, tucking his cold hands under Cas’ armpits, causing the former-angel to hiss.

“And thicker gloves next time, too.”

“But then I wouldn’t get these cuddles,” Dean muttered, tucking his face into the crook of Cas’ neck. “And I really love your warm cuddles.”

Cas snorted, pressing feather-light kisses to Dean’s jaw. “You don’t need the excuse of being cold to cuddle with me, Dean.”

Dean hummed, letting his eyes flutter closed as the loud crackling from the fire lulled him into a sleepy haze. He could feel the heat from the fire creeping up his back, and the warmth from Cas seeping into his bones.

“Maybe next time you can come out with me and keep me warm while I work?” Dean said, voice slipping into a thick-drawl as sleep started to tug him down.

“And miss our cuddle session by the fire? Hard pass. I much prefer warming you up right here when you’re done being the hero,” Cas teased.

And Dean smiled, pressing his grin into Cas’ throat as he drifted off to sleep; Cas arms rubbing comforting circles across his back.

Tag List Part 1 Below- (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list!)

Tag List: @cas-deserved-so-much-more @hello-x-sunshine @bibelphegor @likepurplemuses @expectingtofly @neo-neo-neo @shadowywerewolfqueen @a-sweet-indisposition @feraladoration @xojo

@oganizediguana @paintdriesfaster @adsp-destielcockles @destielangst @im-your-huckle-berry @justa-crayon @dea-stiel @superduckbatrebel @destielfactory @miluiel-erynion

@y-yo-a-ti-cas67 @cockleslovesdestiel @toxic-nebula @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @enchantinghairdoherringwombat @proudace @galaxymysteryelephant @aelysianmuse @ramennoodles-dean-cas @you-changedmedean

@welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @deansotherotherblog @trekkie24 @geo-val @dizzypinwheel @hermionevaldez9 @gimmeprozac @iamsherlockedondoctorwho @dickspeightjrs @imbiowaresbitch

@destielle @hopefuldreamers-world @organicpurplepants @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @shut-up-dean @sapphirecobalt-1 @eshaninjer @spnobsessed50 @mishka @holygoddessofvictory

@jayus-fandom-writer @2musiclover2 @rainbowscas @bennedict @cassiecasyl @jensenacklesruinedmylife @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @chaoticdean @destiel-trash-asf @tlakhtwritesdestiel

@bri-winchester @50shadesofcockles @trasherasswood @spittingpagan @castielstolemyheart @becky-srs @phoenix13 @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @deancasology @top13zepptraxx

@love-neve-dies @good-things-do-happen-dean @tearsofgrace @thedirtytrenchcoat @a-porno-with-the-russian-mafia @on-a-bender @moi-the-bard @one-more-offbeat-anthem @naturallyathief @queen-rowenas

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #inspired by jensen in the snow #jensen ackles #snow #fluff #married destiel

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years

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Motion Sickness Chapter 45

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I cut down the Grimm in front of me. It was green where it should have been white. The discoloration a sign of the modifications Merlot had subjected it to. I spun the broadsword with one hand easily.

Neo was by my side and she tore through the Grimm with grace enough for two.

I wasn't quite sure what the point of the modifications were. Were the Grimm stronger or faster? Maybe. But not enough for it to matter. At least to me.

We'd left the horse back in town. Godo had given his word it would be safe in Wutai while we worked our magic. I sliced and cut into the creeper's flesh. I put out a boot and crushed a green one like it was a child's toy and not a ravaging killing machine.

Neo had her stiletto in one hand and the umbrella in the other. She worked methodically covering my flank as we marched further into the Grimm infested territory.

We'd yet to see the humanoid Grimm I'd been wary of. Just these modified Creepers and Beowulfs. I spun my sword around my body and brought it down, crushing a Beowulf as much as slicing it.

Lately I've been fine in my ruminating state but it felt good to blow off some steam against some enemies which definitely deserved it. Grimm weren't like people and for a moment I was able to remember the light.

I cut down monsters left and right, conserving my energy as we pushed deeper into the woods. I spent my Limit Break on blade-beams when I got it and held onto the strength and speed as long as I thought I could manage before I threw it away and started on the next one.

I once Finishing Touched an Ursa Major we'd come across. The whirlwind of attacks stormed the beast until there was nothing left of it and it dissolved away into grime and smoke.

I wouldn't even need to clean my blade after this. It had been so long since I'd fought these. The true enemy of humanity. I had forgotten. I was a slayer of monsters, truly.

I heard Mother's voice even through the fighting. It was beckoning me to the kingdomless lands. To take the relic and fly to her. I could pull it off too. If I just gave in to that alien goddess it would all be fine. The voices and the bugs would stop.

Instead I marshalled myself and pressed on. Neo flickered out to one side and stabbed through two Beowulfs with a refined ease. She was acrobatic as she accompanied me. Flickering out from the wedge I was driving and destroying and Grimm which dared to get close.

I reached out and crushed a Beowulf's neck with my left hand. I easily strangled it until it was naught but dust and ash.

I would have taken a smoke break a while ago but the Grimm had been unrelenting. It was like disturbing an ant hill as we pushed deeper into enemy grounds. The more we killed the more we seemed to aggravate the whole until I at last caught a glance of a lopsided creature.

I thought it was a Beowulf but it moved more raggedly. It was entirely bipedal with one arm disproportionately larger than the other and ripped with barbed white claws. It was fast but slower than I had been expecting, than I had been afraid of. It's face was the least human thing about it. It had a looming maw in place of a head and seemed to detect me without any eyes.

I blocked it's strike and riposted hard. It went down, bisected by my enormously wide blade. The six feet of range never allowed it to get close to me.

I stepped nearer and looked at it as it dissolved. Neo and I shared a look and I could only hope that she felt the same disgust I did over the monstrosity.

How had Merlot made these monstrosities? How had he made me? Was I like them? Godo had called these ones failures… was I a successful model? Who and what was I really? Time could be my only guide as I pursued the truth.

Neo and I held the line together as we moved apart and chopped away at the Grimm that was swarming us. It was possible I was in a bad mood thinking about my origins.

Oh well. Godo-Dono would be appreciative of us killing more Grimm and so far these weren't threatening. It was the sheer number of them that made them dangerous. They were trying to swamp us. I Cross Slashed two Beowulfs at once. The strikes, the same ones that had killed Ren, demolished the Grimm bodies. Tearing away chunks of red and black Grimm flesh the same way they'd torn into my friend's aura.

It had a sort of sickening familiarity to it.

It wasn't good, I'd spent the last week nearly constantly wasted on greens to hold back my psychosis and it was biting back at me now, as if to punish me.

I blinked rapidly trying to get the bugs out of my eyes and ignore the sweet whispering call of Mother's voice.

“Child, my child…”

“Obey me… come to me…”

I fought through it. Whatever it was I was born with it. I could beat this. I rubbed my eyes and stuck a finger in my ear. I changed the motion and rubbed my earlobe. As though I'd be giving her power if I acknowledged the hallucinations.

I heard Mother... Salem- laugh softly.

I couldn't go back. I'd gone too far for that. Besides, I wasn't the sort to listen. To Salem or Ozpin, Ozma she'd called him. I climb-hazard a Beowulf and slammed it back into the ground in a brutal action, releasing some pent up rage. I Limit Broke and became an absolute wall against them, spinning my blade around me and slicing any Grimm foolish enough to come into my long-long range.

Another two 'human' Grimm approached me and I blocked their long claws and stepped back. I swiped low and took off one's leg at the knees. I thrust forward into the other's chest and it died. I brought the blade down on the still crawling one's head.

The person-like Grimm came at us enforce then and we had to give ground to take ground. I jabbed, thrust, and bit my way through them. I was a terror with my weapon and though I backed up, the enemy kept dying around me.

Neo stood with me. Lashing out from behind me when she saw the opportunity and alerting me when we were going to be overwhelmed at our position.

I front flipped and brought the blade down in a massive Limit Breaker attack and it shattered the ground along with a half dozen of them.

I normal Cross Slashed when I saw the opportunity and danced with my blade all through the enemy.

I removed limbs with a casual ease and beheaded the fast Grimm with a casual calm. They were driving us back but they couldn't keep this up forever.

The only advantage they had was numbers and they started to thin out as I bust the cuts out on them. I opened deep gashes in the enemy, ones which would never heal and I smashed them under my foot.

I lacerated them with the massive blade, crushing Grimm white bone at the same time I opened up that red inside. I clipped heads off and rolled my wrists making my weapon a blur as I worked my way through them.

I panted as the last of them died and leaned against Crocea Mors for a moment to catch my breath.

We'd arrived at a steep cliff and there at the bottom sat a white metal roof. It was stained and bullied by the Grimm who constantly attempted to undo the work of humanity. Godo-Dono was right. This place had been built to withstand assault.

Assault by the Grimm perhaps, but not by trained huntsmen like yours truly.

The whole place was giving me a sick sense of Deja Vu. I'd been here before. I knew it like I knew the feel of my own heartbeat, like I knew the long red padded handle of Crocea Mors.

I charged Limit to absolutely full. Then I just jumped and before I hit the ground I climb-hazard the wall, rising back up after falling without even hitting the ground. I stood on top of Crocea Mors, embedded in the rock. I pulled it free of the cliff face and then I landed and simply took my weight on my legs.

I looked up to witness Neapolitan drifting down with her parasol. She looked peaceful, relaxed.

The structure looked mostly clear and I stood still, charging Limit Breaker while I waited for her to land. I left it a hair away from being charged and resumed my patient waiting.

I searched my way around the sides of the building, looking for a way in until I found a set of blast doors on the Eastern side away from the cliff. They weren't made of Titania, forged of some kind of cold steel instead. That meant I'd be able to cut my way through.

I activated Limit Breaker and Cross Slashed the doors. The steel fell away to reveal another set of blast doors into which I'd partially cut. I just charged my semblance again and came down with a massive overhead strike and two horizontal swings to pry it open.

Neapolitan landed on the roof above me as I finished breaking my way inside. There was a fury in my heart I couldn't quite place. I was pissed off at being born somewhere wretched like this.

I hovered my way inside. The light I cast from Limit Breaker shed a fine shifting glow over the walls.

I closed my eyes and focused on holding onto the Limit as long as I possibly could. I didn't want to be in the dark in here. I needed the light.

Wisps of my semblance washed over the ceiling as I paced my way inwards. Neo teleported beside me and gave me something like a reassuring smile. I just frowned. The genius loci of this place hated me and I hated it. The feeling was totally mutual. We came across rows and rows of… pods I guess you'd call them. Inside each came a soft greenish glowing light which was familiar to me. Like some distant fever dream.

I could hear Salem's voice whispering louder now.

“Bring it to me… come to me child… my beloved son…”

I didn't buy it. It was getting annoyingly distracting, though. Shadows loomed from every corner of the place along the thick tanks. I walked up to one and peeked inside. There was one of the humanoid Grimm in there. For all the world lifeless and floating, naked and shameless.

"Is this what I am? Just one of these… these clones too?" I asked.

Neo didn't answer. She looked distinctly concerned though. I breathed and tried to relax. I cast light with a wave of my arm upwards. At the top of the rows and rows of tanks there was a larger one. With an inward blue light emanating from the glass window. I walked up to it and traced my fingers across the glass. Nothing floated inside.

"This… this is where I was born. Where I was made. This tank right here. I remember being on the opposite side. The blue light… all of it. It seems surreal to see it from this side now."

True enough I felt almost a sense of vertigo to be looking in from the outside.

I walked down the steps and Neo followed, skipping to keep up, umbrella at the ready.

"If I'm supposed to be comforted by the feeling of having a special tank amongst these cloned monsters I'm not. Let's see what else we can find."

I paced downwards away from the rows and rows of tanks. There was an office there. It had a wide chalkboard… and rows and rows of books.

There was a security terminal too. I booted it up but it asked for a password. I hadn't the slightest clue what the password could be. I turned to the books.

"Let's see… Jaune Arc, perhaps. No… it seems he only gave model numbers to successes. If I'm a true failure I won't be in here. Perhaps it's this one."

I pulled a book from the shelf and breezed through it. Notes on the DNA of the creatures in the tanks. And graphic illustrations of those monsters.

"One of these will be about me. Or my line of models at least…"

I tossed the book behind me and grabbed another. It was full of details on a vivisected Beowulf. I leafed through it and tossed it aside. I was beginning to make a bit of a mess.

"You want to help?" I asked Neo.

She gave a slow cautious affirming nod.

"At that terminal, try variations on Jaune Arc. What with caps and spaces and all. Maybe it'll work. I don't know."

She nodded and began typing away at the computer with resounding mechanical clacks .

I tossed another book over my shoulder. Adding to the growing pile. I ransacked the shelves but whatever labeling system Merlot had used didn't agree with me.

Eventually Neo stopped typing.

"No luck?"

She shook her head.

"I thought not… Did you try 'password?'"

She gave me a flat look and did. No dice. Just that same login screen.

"Hey wouldn't you? If you were me?"

She sighed heavily but she did nod.

I tossed a book on Creepers over my shoulder. It landed haphazardly and I found I didn't much care. If Merlot ever returned he'd find his collection in a state of miserable disarray.

"Wait this is it." It was a vitruvian man which kinda looked like me. It was in the cheekbones and jawline and around the eyes. It had my tank's label to it.

"I was… I was made from Salem's cells. And some donor's. It doesn't say who. How in the world did he get his hands on Salem's cells? Doesn't she like… live on a kingdomless continent? I feel a pull in her direction but I cannot tell how far."

"I was grown here from a fetus. In that tank until I was nearly an adult. The tank educated me, I think. There are vague impressions..."

"Salem's cells… it must explain her control over me. How she's able to get in my head. Why I still hear the whispers. I can still hear her now."

Neo pantomimed smoking.

I nodded, relieved at even the thought and pulled my pipe out. I packed it from the grinder with some Lemon Drop Haze and took a long pull using my lighter. My semblance died out around then. I sighed and started to recharge. I took a long pull as I did and the only thing I could see was the glowing red embers in the pipe, slowly growing, then slowly dying out as I roached the entire thing in a single pull.

I exhaled and like a light switch my semblance turned on. I breathed out in Neo's direction by accident and she waved a hand through the smoke, looking annoyed.

"Sorry," I breathed. "Sorry."

"It says here… it says I was a partial failure." I wasn't sure what to make of that. At least I had a face unlike the humanoid Grimm and he counted those as...something I guess. I felt something bitter rise up in me. Something howling.

A failure without so much as a birth.

I couldn't even be a failure from birth.

I had no model number. My father… Merlot...

Instead on through the notes. "This explains my fake memories. They were given to me by the tank. And my… and my sisters. There's no mention of them. I wonder if they were successes." I put the little book in my pocket and perused the rest of the shelf. "They'd have a different model number if they were successes…"

I searched through every last book but found no mention of them, my sisters and no more references to me, myself, either.

"She said I was Merlot's. Could my sisters have come from somebody else? The more questions I have answered the more questions I have!"

I swung out with Crocea Mors and shattered the glass on the tank nearest the office. Neapolitan shot up, looking alarmed. The Grimm thing stirred but I reached through the broken glass and strangled it with my bare hands. Liquids from the tank dripped over me and the green light dimmed. It fell apart into a disgusting black fluid.

I growled and wanted to scream.

"Nothing about this makes sense. Nothing about this is fair . I'm going to get my hands on Merlot for real. I'll make him pay for ever creating me. Every ounce of agony I have ever suffered I shall inflict upon him ten-fold."

I laughed madly and shattered another tank. I stabbed straight through it and the Grimm thing inside. Malformed. A reject. A bad batch and nothing more. That's all my existence was. My entire life and every emotion I'd ever felt.

The only people who could answer my questions were Salem and Merlot and lords only knew where Merlot was. I had no intention of going near Salem. Just so she could control my mind again? I wanted nothing to do with that.

I skewered another tank and this time I did scream. I pierced the thing inside and it died a bubbly, gurgling death.

Neo watched from the sidelines, transfixed. Her face was ashen white.

With shaking hands I pulled my pipe out again and set up another hit. I pulled hard and long and coaxing.

I fell to my knees with it and for a minute or two I just let myself be fully and truly mad. My semblance evaporated and I was in total darkness.

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-WG

#rwby #ff7 #ffvii #jaune arc #cloud strife #cloud!jaune arc #sephiroth!Jaune arc #neo #neapolitan #war of the roses #white rose #whiterose #white knight #whiteknight #lancaster #ruby rose x jaune arc x weiss schnee #motion sickness

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kingbennyboyyy · 3 years

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benny’s rwby rewrite: team RWBY redesigns

hello again! in honor of me actually getting some schoolwork done and subsequently having the time to rewatch the first volume of rwby for writing purposes, i thought i’d get out of the way some design notes that have been living in my head for the main girls. with how important colors and motif are in rwby as a whole, i thought that a little more care could be taken. i’ll go into the volume 1 designs most of all, and outline any consistent changes within the character’s notes. i’ll also go into why i’m changing what i’m changing.

with that, my thoughts as always will be under the cut!

ruby rose:

we’re starting strong with ruby’s design, and god do i have some strong opinions about this girl. let it be known that i actually like ruby’s clothing design: i think i’ve mentioned that i think the contrast of a fluffy petticoat and platform boots with a giant scythe and killing monsters is really interesting. that being said, there’s some fucked up geneology happening in the rose-xiao long family.

a big issue i have with ruby and her family members is the fact that despite the fact that yang and ruby are related through taiyang, neither of them have inherited his skintone. you’d think that with how literally their phenotypes are taken, that ruby wouldn’t be white as snow. with how low-contrast ruby’s design is as a whole, i think that her having darker skin would be welcome. adding the bonus of holy shit, a dark-skinned mixed girl is the protagonist makes me really biased toward this. complexion-wise, she should be somewhere between summer and taiyang, but still visibly darker than someone like weiss.

her hair being naturally black and red is perfectly okay for me. i think that it looks nice, and there’s a lot she can do with it. i can’t really complain about it being in her eyes after gushing over her combat cupcake skirt.

what i can complain about is her lack of pockets. like, she only has one little pouch to carry god knows what in. is she really expecting to be able to carry all of her ammunition in that one little pouch? god no. swap out the pouch for some kind of bag, or better yet, a bandolier of some kind to serve the same asymmetrical purpose that dingy little pocket does.

finally, her eyes. in my ideal world, i would have done something a bit more dramatic to set ruby’s white eyes apart from, say, neo’s grey eyes. maybe making her pupils lighter than black, grey, or even just white. the animators made blake’s pupils smaller to set her apart, why not give ruby’s eyes a little something-something? also, with the contrasting color of her design being either a silver or a white, having her silver eyes be one of the lightest elements of her design is really aesthetically pleasing to me.

weiss schnee:

i’m going to be completely real here, i like weiss’ original design a lot. they really leaned into the weiss part of her: the girl’s white. she’s white as fuck. her dress is white, her little bolero is white, her shoes are white, it’s all white, with just a touch of icy pastel blue to make her feel more cold than sterile. i love it. i’m also a big fan of the other, brighter colors in her design, but i think the introduction of red should have waited a bit longer.

in her introductory outfit, the inside of her bell-sleeved bolero is this blinding, fully-saturated red that is really distracting to the eye. i’d replace this with a blue, sort of like the color of her eyes, and do the same with that little doily piece at the dip in her neckline. i also think that she should have been kept much more symmetrical, the most symmetrical of any of the cast. move that side pony to the center back of her head, put one of those little pouches on each hip, and have her stow her weapon across her back.

also, this isn’t even necessarily a problem, but i think weiss would have benefited from a much more conservative shoe. knowing the schnee family, i don’t they would have found it appropriate for an heiress to be running around in platform heels. i think that pointe shoes, or something familiar, would be really interesting, especially in conjunction with her ballerina aesthetic. her scar can definitely stay as it is; i think it’s both subtle enough to break her symmetry nicely, but also symbolically strong.

also, of all of the characters to give a dramatic haircut, it should have been fucking weiss. i’m all for bi bob blake, but imagine the dramatic potential of weiss just chopping straight through that shit to declare herself independent from her shitdick father. also, i think her hair should be naturally brown, like jacques’ is. the narravite element of her having to tirelessly keep up appearances is really good to me.

blake belladonna:

blake lives in a weird space for me. on the one hand, i would love for her to have dark skin as well, to sort of even the scale in terms of complexion. however, having a dark-skinned woman with literal animal ears being kind of problematic isn’t lost on me. in my opinion, the issue lies in blake being uniquely dark-skinned: in conjunction with ruby and yang, i think that her being dark-skinned is a little less uncomfortable. i think it would also remedy the problem of most of the dark-skinned characters in rwby being either dead or evil, so we’ll make her a bit tan.

with that out of the way, i also really like blake’s design, but she could certainly use some work. she, like many of the other team members, are pretty low-contrast save for the white tube-top thing she had going on. i think the white in her design should be toned down, either to a grey or a purple color. i also think that her arm situation needs to either be long gloves or wrapped-up straps, not both. that motif isn’t anywhere else in her design, and most of the lines are clean and smooth, not all jaggedy like the straps are. keep those bracelets on her upper arms, and make those gloves of hers marksman’s gloves.

i also think that she should wear thigh-high boots. this isn’t just my bias showing; something about the way those boot cuffs cut off the line of her legs is just really irritating to me. have them attach to that swooping vest situation, this is anime, it doesn’t matter how she’d get into them logistically. also, that gradient situation on her is just terrible. having seen a lot of art of her without that gradient has converted me, her design is just so much more clean-looking without it, and blake really reads as someone who should have a much less complex design, opting for clean lines and nice shapes instead of the frills and textures someone like weiss has.

yang xiao long:

i’m gonna start with something i’ve already mentioned: yang should be brown. the fact that she not nary a fucking hair of melanin from her dad is a crime. ideal yang is brown, but so is her hair to start out. i had the idea of rather than her hair being naturally yellow, starting out brown and being bleached in streaks by the heat of her semblance, and as the show goes on, it gets more and more yellow, and eventually even platinum blonde.

with that out of the way, i do not like yang’s initial design. the puffed sleeves don’t make any sense with her as a character, that weird train situation she has on her belt is an affront to god, and why is she just wearing spats? i think that of all of the people to tear, or hell, burn the sleeves clean off of her jacket, it’d be yang. yang is a fuck sleeves kind of girl. she’s a “i flexed the sleeves clean off of my shit” kind of girl. also, she’s gonna wear a tube top and hot pants, but she’s gonna button up her jacket? fucking what? unbutton that shit. she’s a lesbian vest kinda girl. she can keep her little scarf, and her tube top is a look, so it can stay.

i actually really like yang’s boots. i think they compliment her really nicely, and she’s enough of a brute fighting style-wise to warrant those chunky monsters. the mismatched socks and little scarf are cute touches too, but i think the scarf should start out red. the purple can come in later. addressing the spats (bike shorts? spanx?) situation, there’s a very simple solution: give yang jorts. not even a fucking joke, give the woman jorts. look me in the eye and tell me that yang “t-shirt as a bandana” xiao long would not wear jorts. you can’t. it’s impossible. she would wear neon yellow jorts with that ungodly belt situation and i will not compromise this. the overalls she wears in atlas? also jorts. mistral? black, sure, but fucking jorts nonetheless. jort xiao long will outlive me, so help me god.

... i got a bit carried away there, but i hope you enjoyed my thoughts! i may at some point get around to actually drawing these redesigns, so keep an eye out for that in future!

#benny's rwby rewrite #team rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #characters

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toxicpineapple · 4 years

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now im just curious abt rantaros relationships w the v3 cast.... mwahaha spill everything 🦟🦗🦟

hi anon! sorry for taking so log to reply to this, i knew i’d have a lot to say and i didn’t have the spoons to go off until now. FLKDJSFLkj here we go!

hehe! okay. so just as a preface, i’m like. REALLY into rantaro pairings. like. the only rantaro pairings i don’t like all that much are am*cha, rantaro/himiko, amaguuji (sorry lgbt community), and ranmugi. the rest i’m either open to or obsessed with. so like. bear that in mind when you read this.

i’m going to rank rantaro relationships by how much i love them so i can get an order to this (and also so i can do amamota last because i have a lot to say).

rantaro + korekiyo (2.5/10) oh gosh. kiyo, i’m so sorry a dumb bitch like me would do you like this. listen, amaguuji is a good pairing, just, objectively. i used to be super into it. but then the fandom crabwalked all over me with their amaguuji hurt/comfort fics and i got so Tired of seeing rantaro get treated like a security blacket... eugh. amaguuji is a good ship. i have written amaguuji, and would write it again, without prompting. i’m just... so tired.

they’d get along! obviously they would get along, we’ve seen their canon interactions, we’ve all slurped up as much rantaro tdp content as we were able to get, we know the tea. rantaro is passive and not easily creeped out, so he’d be able to look past all the unsettling things about kiyo, and similarly, kiyo is understanding and not pushy, so rantaro would be able to vibe around him without being asked about his secrets, or his travels, or anything that he doesn’t want anybody else to know. i like the aesthetic of them sitting around and drinking tea together, just, vibing like bros. kiyo infodumps to rantaro. rantaro fucking loves it. they’re best friends.

also like. they travel together. or whatever.

rantaro + kiibo (4/10) to be clear, i’m like, they’re cute, it’s just. i don’t have very strong opinions on kiibo as a whole FLKDJSFKLJDSFKDF kiibo is one of those characters who i kind of close my eyes on because to me he is just, he is very boring! he is very boring and i am so sorry to the kiibo stans who follow me, i have so much respect for you, i just have never had a kiibo thought in my life. they’re fun to write, though, i’ll tell you that.

kiibo is one of those characters who i think engages with you based on how you engage with him. i don’t mean that he’s a code switcher, (at least not a notorious one), but he’s emotional, and he’ll give back as much as you put in. if you treat him poorly, he’ll respond with anger and indignity. if you treat him with kindness and respect, he’ll respond similarly. which is why i think he and rantaro would really get along! rantaro is relaxed and kind and non-judgmental, and kiibo is the kind of person who needs chill vibes, so i think they’d have a lot of fun hanging out. rantaro is also the type of guy to get his friends a lot of gifts, and i think kiibo would be overwhelmed at like, the thoughtfulness that goes into that, and would grow really fond of rantaro accordingly. they’re sweet! amiibo rights, even if the first time i saw it my gut reaction was “wait, huh?”

rantaro + ryoma (5/10) this is another one of those ones where the rating was cucked because i don’t see a lot of them interacting and there’s not enough fandom content for me to really be in love with it. five is like, a solid neutral rating. i could swing either way. probably more for the positive though; i fucking love ryoma.

another one of those duos where they kind of just, vibe. honestly i don’t know if they’d get too close, if only because rantaro is gone so often he doesn’t really have the time to work on tearing down ryoma’s walls, and ryoma similarly is so tired he’s like, he doesn’t have the energy to try and figure out what the fuck is up with rantaro. unlike with amamota, rantaro and ryoma both have things that trouble them from their past, but the difference is that like, ryoma is so open about it? he’s not closed off. he won’t let people get close, but sure, he’ll tell them exactly why they shouldn’t. rantaro is the complete opposite, all sunny smiles and subject changes. this isn’t to say that they wouldn’t get along! i think they’d get along fantastically. sometimes when rantaro is just feeling so fucking tired, he’d pop by ryoma’s dorm for a candy cigarette and a casual conversation, and they’d chill. or maybe rantaro tells people to let ryoma have his space sometimes. just. vibing in solidarity. they’re bros! they’re bros.

and sometimes they kis--

rantaro + miu (6/10) full disclosure: i love them. leila i am so sorry that a dumb bitch like me would do this friendship like this. i’m just looking at the list and thinking “oh no i love them all” and when it comes to like, my favourite characters, unfortunately, miu had to go on the chopping block. i love them. feel like shit just want egg rp miu and rantaro back.

god! this is another one of those where like, rantaro isn’t judgmental (but he is firm!) so he and miu would get along really well. rantaro is really patient and he like, goes with the flow, so he and miu would be able to have conversations and he’d either shut down or tune out the sex jokes, actually carrying the conversation based on what she’s saying. miu is pretty chill, like, at least i feel like she’d be a really chill friend? so rantaro would be able to make insensitive jokes about how he just got stabbed and miu would be like “KYAHAHAHA you’re such a fuckin moron come to my lab i’ll make you a drink or some shit” and they’d just be cool. they’d just be cool! i want them to be best friends. please. just. two pals who spill tea and come to each other to make dark jokes. also miu cries into rantaro’s shoulder sometimes and he braids her hair fuck you i doooo what i want.

also sometimes they k--

rantaro + gonta (7/10) hey! it’s SO fucking homophobic that the only amagoku fic on ao3 is fucking porn! i hate it here can you please give me some actual food? please? i’m dying. i’m dying here and you’re doing me like this. these two have so many rights! they have so many rights. i just, two special boys? thank you. thank you for them. i care them. if there was more fucking CONTENT for these two i would have given them a higher rating but i guess! i’ll fucking die!

damn i’m actually like... really tender, thinking about them. i just think they could take care of each other! that’s all. i feel like rantaro would be really patient with gonta but he would also treat him like! a real, intelligent person! idk! like not infantalise him despite being sweet and comforting. i don’t know! i think that’s important can you guys STOOOOP infantalising coded autistic characters that would be really sweet </3 but anyway. i headcanon that rantaro likes insects! or at least, he thinks they’re pretty neat! he thinks they’re neat and he likes them and even more than that he likes listening to gonta info dump, it’s just, it’s important. idk. i think rantaro would be really psyched by how excited gonta gets about insects, and of course gonta would be thrilled to have a friend who wants to talk to his insect friends.... hhhhHhh... and of course gonta would take care of rantaro, too, just, he’d respect rantaro’s boundaries and not ask him any questions, he’d offer space and let rantaro just, exist, and be. gonta is soft and he gives good hugs! and i think that he would just be able to let rantaro cry one out on his shoulder and that’s SO important to me.

also gonta is such a sweetheart so it would be like, hard, for rantaro to lie about stuff? i dunno, like, he’d do okay, and then gonta would ask him a question or something and rantaro would be hit with the Guilts... also like, rantaro employs a mix of like, slight coldness, and airheaded subject changes in making people back off, and i doubt he could really do that with gonta. why would you!!! he’s a soft man, just the softest!!!! these two soft green men :) i care them so fucking much can you imagine rantaro taking gonta to places to see bugs PLEASE they have so much potential can we fucking talk about this

rantaro + tenko (7/10) this one would be higher, but i deducted points because of how the fandom always sees rantaro as “fixing” tenko’s man hatred. that’s literally so gross can you shut up? please? i hate? men?

okay n e wayz. i like them! i think they’re neat, i think they’d be great friends... eventually LFKDJLKDSF like listen, okay? i think tenko really does have real fear of men. think about her backstory, like, her master dripping poison in her ear all her childhood, and then the way he had her working as a fucking VIGILANTE? HELLO? like tenko probably saw some horrible traumatising shit as a child that strengthened these beliefs. this is entirely her master’s fault and he is such a, clenches fist, i can’t even articulate this beanie has better master hatred thoughts than i do, but god he sucks? wow. and fuck tenko’s parents too, sending her off to a temple because she had anger issues. you ever heard of a therapist, chabashiras? hello?

i got distracted, but the main thing is, tenko wouldn’t like him at first. not even reluctantly! like rantaro very much looks like a playboy and that’s the epitome of the kind of guy tenko is against. obviously rantaro isn’t, but tenko isn’t getting close enough to see that! if a man so much as touches her she’s responding defensively, don’t you even think rantaro is going to get past that. and i don’t think rantaro would try Too hard, i mean, like, i think he’d be endeared to tenko because of how much she protects the girls, and how sweet she is when she’s like, not actively thinking about it, but i don’t think he’s so ready to get his ass kicked, y’know? FKLDSJFLKSDFJ

but then maybe like! an accident will happen, and tenko falls over, and rantaro reaches to help her but she freaks and grabs his arm and flips him over and then BOOM!!! neo aikido magic things and she sees all his fucking stress, all his distrust, just how much he really blames himself for everything, how afraid and angry and tired he is, and we all know tenko is super compassionate so i think she would absolutely be worried about it. and then i think she’d like! keep an eye out for rantaro, at the very least try and get confirmation on all those emotions because this pretty boy soooo does not act like it, and then maybe one time she sees him getting grilled on his travels, or he comes back injured and tenko finds him, and she bails him out, begrudgingly, and then they start to become friends.

idk! i think they have platonic potential. i think rantaro would see her as a sister and i think tenko would eventually ask rantaro if he’s really a guy. (which he would laugh off, if he was cis, but if this is nb rantaro.... i’m just saying, the potential for tenko to help rantaro with gender awakening.... fantastic.) get into these two as friends. do it.

if some MOTHERFUCKER reblogs this post with am*cha in the tags i’m going to kill. i’m going to KILL. i won’t even hesitate /hj

rantaro + tsumugi (8/10) (looks at ibuki poster) oh mioda, we’re really in it now. and by that i mean, god it’s so fucking hard to choose favourites from here FKJDSLFKJ i have almost all the girls just, up here, because i’m so fucking fond of their relationships with rantaro. and i know i said i don’t like ranmugi or rantaro/himiko, and it’s true, but i am obsessed with their platonic relationships with him. ESPECIALLY when tsumugi and rantaro are one-sided enemies.... that’s such good shit, holy crap.

okay, let me explain. i feel like rantaro and tsumugi can swing both ways, here. they can either be really good friends! like, rantaro is mellow so he lets tsumugi put him into cosplay (i think rantaro would make a really good n off the top of my head since they’re both green FLKJDSFKJ or light yagami..... handsome men) and since he loves listening to people info dump he just... lets tsumugi go fucking OFF about anime sometimes FKJDSLKFJ i think it would be sweet! i think tsumugi could give rantaro a place to unwind, because she’s so like, hard to phase, i guess? like tsumugi and rantaro share that trait where if you hit either of them in the face with a pie, they’d just go “oh, funky” and go to wash their clothes LMAO. power duo! they’re brother and sister! and i headcanon mugi as a lesbian so she talks to rantaro about ~girls~ sometimes. also u already know tsumugi got tea to spill so rantaro helps with her hair for a cosplay while she gossips KFJDLK honestly why aren’t she miu and rantaro a trio? i just think they’d be neat. good friends! best friends.

or tsumugi absolutely fucking detests rantaro with every fiber of her being. she couldn’t even tell you why! he’s just, he’s a normie! he’s a normie, and he’s like the flirtatious pretty boy stereotype except he isn’t even flirtatious, he’s just genuinely nice and he takes care of people and god tsumugi hates it when anime tries to be subversive! there’s a reason tropes exist, y’know! and he’s so smiley and innocent when obviously he’s hiding some kind of shit, why else would he be going on travels all the time, not that it matters because everyone knows how much she hates rantaro so they wouldn’t listen to her anyway... on rantaro’s end, he really doesn’t have a clue why she loathes him so much, like, he’d like to be friends? but wow she hates him, huh. well, whatever. rantaro’s got more important things to worry about.

in other words, i fucking love them in any form, please give me content of these two they’re so fun.

rantaro + angie (8/10) i love these two and these rankings are? so difficult for me, i am going to cry, you guys get the idea about me being a rantaro stan, right? i hope you do because god i love him so much. and i love him with angie! man. okay. okay.

so like. first of all. angie climbing onto rantaro’s back? perfect. she’s in need of piggy back rides and rantaro will gladly give them. rantaro is so patient and like, hhh i don’t want to use the word pliable because of horny people but that’s the best one i can come up with? like, he just goes with the flow, y’know? angie is so high strung, platonically i think she works really well with people who are patient and indulgent. i don’t know if rantaro would be much for her as far as fulfilling her loneliness, because angie is sort of looking for someone who Wouldn’t indulge her that much, but i’m absolutely weak for their dynamic. just, angie bringing up wacky ideas, rantaro responding with mild skepticism but also listening to her. i think she’d cause some trouble and he would be entirely here for it. bless them, honestly.

also angie painting rantaro’s sisters? please they’re so cute

rantaro + shuichi (8/10) before you come at me like “but toxic! amasai is your otp!” it’s not, okay? it used to be. but due to negative associations i can’t really write it (or shuichi ships as a whole) that much anymore and it’s really frustrating so uh, yeah. amamota supremacy.

that being said, god the potential of these two. they’re a great balance. shuichi is anxious and rantaro is laid back, shuichi is reserved and rantaro is outgoing (to an extent; he definitely doesn’t have any issues voicing his opinions). i think rantaro would be really gentle with shuichi! he matches the quiet, less overwhelming vibes, and just. feels inclined to take care of him, y’know? and spend time with him. i think they’re sweet! i think they’re really cute. the other part of the amasai dynamic that i used to be obsessed with his shuichi’s natural curiosity. shuichi would be so curious about what’s going on with rantaro and why he’s traveling, and rantaro would want so badly to tell him, but he can’t risk it happening again, he can’t... oh!!! rantaro is is really good at comforting people i think so he’d be able to like, support shuichi when he’s upset, and shuichi has great communication skills! or at least i like to give them to him. so shuichi would nudge rantaro into being honest, and talking about his feelings. i just want to see them do well together, that’s all! i think that shuichi is earnest and emotional and he cares very dearly for his friends, and he would try really hard to take care of rantaro. he would also probably worry a lot about rantaro after figuring out he gets injured a lot in trips, which, like, FLKDJSFLKJ rantaro might not be so big on but honestly? the guy needs someone to worry about him.

also they FUCKING TRAVEL TOGETHER!!!! shuichi is a detective!!!!!! he can help rantaro search! cue post-salmon mode amasai slowburn as they travel the world together finding rantaro’s lost sisters. i really need to finish writing search, it’s been four months.

rantaro + kaede (9/10) hhh. oh man. oh geez. amamatsu, huh. amamatsu. i just. think about kaede having a little crush on rantaro after he painted her nails, because he’s so reassuring and patient and observant, and she knows he’s sketchy but she believes in him anyway because he has to be trustworthy, he has to, and then she sees him dead and is at first betrayed, horrified that he was the mastermind, only to realise he wasn’t, and she just killed an innocent person for no reason...

now that that’s out of the way, GOD I LOVE THEM! there are things about this relationship that prevent it from working out in the long term (at least in my opinion) but i don’t even care they have such a lovely dynamic and they look so good together... hhhhh i’m also so into them, just, platonically? god. okay. they just! like they already have that canonical dynamic of like, kaede bringing concerns to rantaro and him reassuring her or providing insight, and it’s so tender! the way he talks to her about miu or kiyo or kiibo (depending on who you choose) is so like, i dunno! he doesn’t judge her for having bad first impressions but at the same time he calmly looks a little more into why they behave the way they do? it’s just sweet! it’s just sweet, and i think rantaro can really help kaede like that, and help her to let her barriers down a little and feel not so pressured to be like, perfect all the time, y’know? to be a leader and take care of everyone 24/7. kaede really needs that.

and kaede! believes in him! she believes in him and looks to him for guidance and that’s so important for rantaro too, just, feeling trusted and knowing someone has faith in him... i really genuinely think kaede would encourage rantaro to keep on looking for his sisters, and urge him to trust other people and believe in himself, and it’s that same thing where she wants him to trust and open up to her and he wants to as well but it’s so difficult.... hhh!!! i think they’re so good!!!!! i just think they’re so good. they would take care of one another.

(the reason why i don’t think they’d be sustainable in the long term is because kaede like, she worries. and not in the way shuichi does? i just feel like she needs more stability and vulnerability than rantaro can actually bring to the table. i think kaede would try so, so, so hard to get rantaro to open up, and try so hard to take care of him and make sure he takes care of himself, and rantaro wouldn’t be putting in the same effort, because he can’t, and i don’t think kaede would blame him for it, but i do think that eventually she’d see it’s not. healthy. and it’s making her upset all the time. and she can’t keep up like this. they hurt me but i love them so much and i live in a world where they’re forever teens and never have to break up.)

also love them platonically! sorry i have amamatsu brainrot at all times but i really do love them as friends! i love rantaro painting kaede’s nails and doing her hair and kaede teaching him a duet on the piano, and she comes to him for advice and he brings her souvenirs and kaede makes sure he’s welcome in the class, and saves him cake after parties... also he calls her a brat and ruffles her hair a lot HEHEHE.

rantaro + maki (9/10) what? what? two people who never interacted and who have almost less interactions than gonta and ryoma do with rantaro? why, tox? why?

... because i’m a simp. that’s the only reason! that’s the only reason. i think they look good together, i’m really weak for maki and rantaro, and that’s the only reason. that’s the only reason! i have a crush on them both and i want to see them interact. there it is. boom. get your “make fun of tox” juice. before i ramble about how much potential they have, i just want you to know how utterly biased i am towards them.

there! that’s out of the way! biases admitted. i think rantaro and maki have the potential to really balance each other out. rantaro is really mellow and maki has a bit of a temper, rantaro is airheaded and maki is focused, rantaro is sociable and maki is closed off. at the same time, though, they like, handshake on a lot of things, y’know? they’re both secretive and distrustful, they both don’t want to let other people get close out of a fear of losing them, they’re both so FUCKING sad please i just want to hold them. i think there’s a lot of potential for them to be like, coming back to hope’s peak late or something, rantaro coming home from a trip and maki coming home from an assassination, and to run into each other and both be curious but also neither of them asks anything because they’ve both got so much to hide...

(that’s actually the exact premise of my amami week day one oneshot, stay tuned, gamers.)

but!! then it happens more often and they start seeing each other a lot more, and slowly they start to get like, a sort of companionship? like they’re not close or anything, but they’re united by their like, distrust of other people. and maybe maki tends to a wound of rantaro’s, or like with tenko tells people to lay off of grilling him, or maybe RANTARO tends to a wound of MAKI’S, or sticks up for her in a conversation. and fuck!! maybe a mission goes wrong and maki is upset and she trusts nobody at this goddamn school (because kaito hasn’t taken her on as his sidekick yet) so she goes to rantaro for, fucking, something, for comfort, and it’s embarrassing and vulnerable and absolutely terrible but he’s so gentle and sweet maki can’t help but let her guard down for just a second. also love the aesthetic of like, rantaro coming home from a trip disheartened and running into maki and she calls him an idiot or something and he just starts crying while maki stands there, not sure what to do, before stepping forward and awkwardly patting his arm FKLDJSFKJd i just think they’re neat. strictly speaking he’s not maki’s type (read: optimistic and stupid) but i love them for each other.

love them as friends! love rantaro to be maki’s go-to friend when she needs her empowering haircut, and them tending to each other’s wounds is not an inherently romantic thing, and they just stick up for each other and vibe... hhhhh.

if none of this happens then idk rantaro is a bit intimidated by maki, and maki thinks he’s unreliable and untrustworthy. that’s probably more likely FLKDJSFKJ BUT I CAN DREAM OKAY? CRIES

rantaro + himiko (9/10) these two are brother and sister, full stop. there’s nothing morally wrong with shipping them, it’s more just that like. i don’t know! himiko is so childish, like, the epitome of a younger sister, and rantaro is the epitome of an older brother... they vibe so hard platonically and then romantically my brain just restarts itself. but anyway!

magic is himiko’s special interest!!!! it means a lot to her and she’s very adamant that it be called magic and not tricks, like, even to the point of slowing down a trial and making herself look guilty in chapter two. i think rantaro is very used to playing along with his sisters’ stuff, and i think he would absolutely humour himiko. and like, they both know it’s not really magic, but it’s the effort that himiko appreciates, and in like, a no-pressure way like rantaro does it? yes please.

i think he would give her piggyback rides. like in chapter five when they’re climbing the stairs to kaito’s lab and himiko goes “someone give me a piggyback ride!” you already know rantaro would be volunteering. (side note: read whattheskyknows’ fic “missing (isn’t always so bad)” because it has that scene and i’m emotional.) i think he’d really take care of her! idk i know i’ve said that about a lot of these but rantaro is very caring. he’d look after himiko and make sure she’s taking her depression meds and carry her to her room when she falls asleep and tell people off when they overwhelm her and hhhh... and himiko would support him too! like with his travels and stuff, she wouldn’t really care about knowing why he’s traveling because it’s not her business and also like, asking about that stuff is a pain, who cares, if he’s gonna travel he’s gonna travel. rantaro would buy her books about magic while traveling and read them to her if she wants, and she would perform magic tricks for him and remind him of what it’s like to have a younger sister again. they matter to me. they should matter to you, too.

rantaro + kirumi (9/10) now i KNOW you weren’t expecting me to put amatoujou any lower, do you know who my favourite person in this fandom is? you are legally obligated to go check out Storyflight’s ao3 and read all of their amatoujou fics because they’re phenomenal and story is too. story ilu. amatoujou week is coming up on october third. participate or die.

anyway! i just think like, in general, rantaro has a lot of respect and appreciation for kirumi. she takes care of everyone! she works so hard all the time and she can really do anything and she’s so composed and calm all the time, and she has this sweet smile and this little laugh and this relaxing, patient energy, and hhhhhhh. rantaro respects her so damn much! so damn much. and maybe he simps a little regardless of whether they’re romantically involved because she works so hard. they get along! pseudo-parents of the group as people always make them. rantaro wants kirumi to kick back every so often, y’know? she matters to him and he’d like to see her being true to herself and enjoying herself. i also think he’s pretty stern with people when it comes to her, and just like, respecting her boundaries, the kinda guy to calmly and casually go, “hey, ouma-kun, she told you not to call her your mother, maybe you’d better respect that?” and kokichi goes “simp” but nevermind nevermind, i’m covering oumami on the next bullet.

idk! i think they’d look after each other! i think rantaro would make sure that kirumi is actually Taking Care Of Herself and of course kirumi would notice him coming in injured all the time and she would absolutely tend to his injuries without asking any questions at all. she would make sure he’s eating and if he requested, she would even tell everyone to Back The Fuck Off on his secrets and leave him alone FKJDSKFj i think she would always emphasise to him that she’ll do whatever she can for him if he so much as asks, as is her duty as a maid or whatever, but rantaro will refuse because like!!! hell’s no, he’s not about to feed into her complex my dude!!!!! but anyway.

i think it would... i just think it would be neat if he told her about his sisters! that’s all. kirumi is a fucking powerhouse, even if rantaro didn’t request it, she would totally help him find all twelve of them and bring them home. honestly? prime slowburn material, just, rantaro requesting that she help find his sisters and they slowly fall in love along the way... hhhhh if i wasn’t a fucking coward i’d write it myself, what a fantastic multi-chapter concept. i am so smart.

rantaro + kokichi (10/10) romantic oumami i go back and forth on but these two are really high at this specific moment in time because i love them SO much platonically, my god.

kokichi is a fucking brat! he’s such a brat, just, an absolute menace, a troublemaker and buffoon. i care him a lot but he’s so tiring to deal with, and if you don’t have the patience it’s hard to like, try and understand him? like with the shorter fuse members of the class (read: kaito and maki) it would be really hard to actually, get to the point where you can see past his bullshit KFJSDLFKJ but rantaro is patient! he’s a patient boy, and he’s hard to menace, and he grew up with twelve younger sisters. twelve!!! he takes care of them, bro, he can handle a little shit gremlin in his life. i think he’d be endeared to kokichi because of this reason, like, the immaturity, it just reminds him of his sisters, and if kokichi pulled out the “onii-chan”... hoo, it’s over. rantaro will do whatever this guy wants. just, a total enabler. absolute goon and enabler. i love them so much.

on a more serious note, they both have a lot of baggage, and similar to harumami it’s like, they’re both really distrustful! they’re distrustful, they just deflect in different ways. i think they’re both observant and intelligent enough that they could bounce off of each other really well. i do think kokichi is a bit smarter than rantaro is, if only just because it’s really hard to be smarter than kokichi, but i still think rantaro could keep up with them. and i think they could be a safe haven for each other! like rantaro gives him a place to truly feel safe, y’know, which is SO rare for kokichi the way he believes everyone is out to get him, and kokichi could give rantaro a place to just, stop smiling. unwind and be himself a little bit. be a little mean! bitch a little! be openly distrustful!

they take care of each other is all!! care them.

rantaro + kaito (20/10) you think you know a simp’s rating system and then she pulls one of these. i’m honestly a little worried about how long this will be because i’ve literally been writing this for three hours but KFJDSKJFDK i’m going to try my very, very best! so here goes :3c

kaito and rantaro have... so much in common. look at these two emotionally constipated, constantly smiling, constantly putting on a brave face, never letting their guard down, never relying on anyone but themselves, always taking care of other people, always taking the burden onto themselves... yeah. it’s like looking in a mirror. and in some cases that’s a really terrible foundation for a relationship. but with these two, when their unhealthy similarities are so reliant upon the other person being willing to just let themself be helped... it works out.

because they’re sweet! they’re sweet people, and rantaro will probably notice the way that kaito takes so much crap from people, including his sidekicks, while working so hard to take care of everyone, and kaito will of Course notice how rantaro is gone all the time, and how he kind of takes himself out of group interactions and makes himself an outcast, and how subtly closed off he is... there’s interest! and they’re both so inclined to help each other i feel like they’d get close! kaito would probably have a bit of a squish on rantaro anyway because he’s the fucking ultimate adventurer and what the hell, that’s so fucking cool, kaito’s destiny obviously lies in the stars but knowing someone who’s going to conquer the earth... that’s awesome. he probably sees rantaro as an equal even before they start getting close. (aka he thinks rantaro is totally above him in every way, like, the ideal almost, but “an equal” is something the luminary of the stars would say, so there he is.) and rantaro thinks kaito is a little silly, but he’s sweet! it’s sweet how much he takes care of other people and just, like, looks after them. rantaro’s weak for a good dork.

and maybe kaito asks rantaro to train with him sometime, or challenges him to a fight, and of course rantaro goes for it because he’s a Man or whatever (and if they do fight it’s homoerotic as hell FKLDSJFK) and plus he’s been meaning to get to know kaito anyway, and then they make a habit of it and start like!! spending time together. and kaito drags rantaro into the larger group and makes him interact and rantaro quietly tells people to lay off kaito, or else makes sure that he’s actually taking care of himself, and then they’re both trying so hard to just, help each other, and they keep like deflecting it back onto the other person, and it’s frustrating! and rantaro is sitting there like “man i really wish momota-kun would open up to me!!” before realising fucking... wait. i do the same thing. like how can he expect kaito to open up to him if he wont do the same thing, y’know? and then he ponders that, and is like, well maybe the relationship just isn’t worth it like vulnerability is for gay losers, but rantaro is, inevitably, a gay loser, so...

there’s just something about seeing your own flaws magnified on another person who you really, really want to take care of, that makes you realise how uncomfortable that is. obviously kaito doesn’t realise he’s upsetting people by pushing them away, not until rantaro closes the door in his face during a breakdown, and then he seriously needs to reevaluate the way he takes care of other people.

idk! i think they’re fantastic. i think kaito’s fervent belief in people would lend itself well to rantaro’s task, like, who doesn’t want to be believed in, y’know? and kaito is so strong about it, even when rantaro doubts himself he’s so encouraging and it’s nice. and rantaro gives kaito space to stop being the hero for a second and just! be kaito! and kaito can tend to his wounds and rantaro can take care of him when he’s sick and hhhHhHhHhhhhHh i care about them SO fucking much.

also? amamota baking sessions? absolutely fucking flawless. these two are so important to me.

hahahaha. sorry for such a long reply, anon. i have a lot of feelings about all of these guys. especially rantaro :) thank you so much for the ask, this was a lot of fun to answer. hope you’re doing well.

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razieltwelve · 4 years

Text

Mistaken Identity (Final Effect)

Her Imperial Majesty Averia VII was overjoyed to hear that Supreme Admiral Blakey and her wife had just welcomed their first child into the world. However, the smile on her face froze the instant she caught sight of the happy couple and their child over the communications channel.

“Pardon me for one moment,” the empress murmured before calmly cutting the communications feed. “I’ll be back in a second.”

X X X

Supreme Admiral Blakey blinked. The empress was normally a very polite person, and she’d seemed perfectly happy right up until her gaze had landed on the baby cradled in Blakey’s arms. That baby had adorable cat ears, the same lilac eyes as Blakey... and pink hair of a very familiar shade.

Oh crap.

“What’s wrong?” her wife asked. “You look worried.”

Blakey looked at her wife... her wife with brown hair that wasn’t quite as dark as the black hair Blakey herself had. “I think the empress is going to murder one of her wives.”

“What?” her wife blurted. “Why?”

“You know how Claire, the bearer of Saviour, and I are like super good friends?” Blakey’s wife nodded. “Look at our daughter’s hair.”

“Oh crap.”

X X X

The first inkling that Claire had that her doom was imminent was when the normally unflappable imperial hedgehog accompanying her made a yelping sound and took one big step to the right. Ice erupted down the corridor, a tidal wave of raw cold that would have swept her off her feet and hurled her against the walls if she hadn’t immediately called on Saviour’s power.

The Semblance crushed the incoming attack, reducing the onslaught of Semblance-enhanced ice to a fine powder that swept past on either side of her without leaving so much as a strand of her hair out of place. The imperial hedgehog meanwhile was in the process of communicating with Lord Hedgeborough who had latched onto Averia’s leg but was having no luck in slowing her down at all as she stomped down the corridor.

“What did you do?” Averia growled. “I thought that mission you went on nine months ago in Alliance territory sounded a bit strange, but I never thought for a second that you’d... you’d... you’d...”

To Claire’s horror, Averia actually looked like she was about to cry. But then the sorrow faded and was replaced by pure, unbridled rage. Her Aura shook the corridor and sent tremors through the palace as Lord Hedgeborough abandoned his attempts to restrain her in his smaller form in favour of transforming and trying to grab her. However, the surge of power that came from the empress, along with the tendrils of ice that formed around her, was enough to drive even the mighty hedgehog back.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Claire replied. Mental alarm bells were ringing throughout her mind. Something was very, very wrong here. She had been about to join Averia in sending their congratulations to Supreme Admiral Blakey about the birth of her first child when this had happened. Wait. Was it something to do with that? “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Averia hissed. “I just saw Blakey’s daughter, Claire. Tell me, if she has black hair and her wife has brown hair, but her child has pink hair - Farron pink hair! - what sort of conclusion should I draw?”

“Oh crap.” Claire had no idea how that had happened. “I know it looks bad, but that had absolutely nothing to do with me.”

“Then why is the girl’s hair pink, Claire?” Averia was so mad that the entire corridor had frozen around them. “I... I... I know you two have always been close, but we’re married. I’m supposed to be able to trust you, but then you go on a mission with her, and nine months later she has a pink-haired daughter? What other conclusion am I supposed to draw?”

Claire wracked her mind for an answer, but she was currently coming up blank. Thankfully, salvation was at hand. Lord Hedgeborough barged through the spires of ice and frost that blocked the corridor and all but threw Lumos Dia-Farron at them.

The Dia-Farron member of the Imperial Guard managed to land on his feet and promptly threw his hands up in front of him. “Please, don’t mangle me!” Like any sensible person, he was smart enough to worry about his safety when a fight between two such powerful people was involved. “But I think I can explain!”

Claire mentally promised to never, ever complain about his eccentricities again if he could get her out of this. “Please do.”

Lumos took a deep breath and then used Bag of Tricks to pull out a holographic projector that proceeded to display an elaborate family tree. “Like we always do, the Dia-Farron looked into the background of anyone marrying someone else important. Since Supreme Admiral Blakey is important, we also looked into the background of her wife. It turns out that she’s a distant descendant of Neopolitan from the Age of Heroes.”

“Wait...” Claire had already put together the pieces, but Averia was still too upset to think clearly.

“Yes. As you know, researchers believe that Neo’s Semblance was a distant shard of Saviour that had split off from the original Semblance and fused with a shard of Ragnarok long before the Age of Heroes. More importantly, it explained why Neo was one of the few people alive with Farron-pink hair who wasn’t actually a Farron.”

Averia blinked. The ice covering the corridor began to recede. “But... that was so long ago...”

“Neo’s genes are kind of a mess - it comes from being a weird hodge-podge of Saviour and Ragnarok genes. Frankly, it’s a miracle she wasn’t some kind of short-lived mutant although that likely explained her short stature. Due to her weird genetics, the genes for hair colour in many of her descendants, even some in this day and age, are complex, capable of expressing in a variety of different hair colours regardless of the hair colours of the parents. For instance, it’s not unheard of for some of her descendants to have completely pink hair but for their children to have dark hair, or for some to have dark hair but then have children...”

“With pink hair.” Averia took two steps and then staggered. She would have fallen if Lord Hedgeborough hadn’t caught her. “I... I am such an idiot.” She stared at her hands. “I can’t believe I just walked out here and attacked you, and...”

Claire could already see the empress beginning to sink into a cycle of self-loathing, so she did something that many a bearer of Saviour had done to foolish people over the years. She walked to the empress, took a moment to aim her attack, and then she chopped her over the head.

“Ouch!” Averia cried, clutching her head. “You hit me!”

“Yeah, I did.” Claire sighed. “So stop beating yourself up.” She saw the look in Averia’s eyes and pressed on. “Yes, we will talk about it, but we will talk about it later. Right now, we need to go back over there and finish congratulating Blakey on her child.” She paused. “Because she’s probably wondering if I’m still alive with the way you must have stormed out of there.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Trust Neo to keep making trouble for her descendants centuries after she’s gone. In all seriousness though, there have always been rumours, some more credible than others, that Blakey and Claire are interested in each other romantically. Can you imagine how shocking it must have been to see Blakey’s kid with Farron-pink hair when neither Blakey nor her spouse have it and the timing on Claire’s mission matches perfectly? Yeah. Perfect recipe for trouble.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here. I’ve recently released two stories, Attempted Adventuring and Surviving Quarantine, as well as two audiobooks, Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Army of Golems and Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire. If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check them out.

#final effect #fanfiction #averia vii #claire final effect #lord hedgeborough #lumos #blakey

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kokichi-and-co-imagine-blog · 4 years

Text

Hope you didn’t miss the DRTC AU too much!

It took forever to edit, but with the rough bits out of the way, I can safely say that chapter three is finally here!

Thank God, it’s Danganpocalypse Chapter 3!

A loud crash sounded, making the ground beneath everyone’s feet tremble.

“This isn’t necessarily ideal.”

“That’s one way to put it!”

Kaito was almost back to back with the Ultimate Neo Aikido master in retaliation to the feeling of everything falling apart, leaving them defenseless to whatever was going to be coming their way. An indignant yelp sounded from Tenko as a hand grabbed her ankle with ferocity. A zombie pinned by a portion of the second floor tried to pull her closer to it's gnashing mouth. She started trying to rip her leg from its grasp, only for it to remain attached. Tenko grabbed onto Kaito’s jacket for some sort of stability as she screamed for it to release her. Suddenly, there was no tension on her leg. A serrated survival knife had swiftly chopped at the wrist on the marred hand, causing it to stay attached to her but not be a problem. The zombie continued to flail it's rotted appendage at Tenko.

“It’s not that hard, I mean it.” A girl with short black hair picked herself off the ground and walked over to the knife, picking it up from where it laid and rubbing off some of the gross remnants onto her pants.

“That isn’t something most girls would do, y’know,” Kaito stated, grimacing a bit.

“So? This isn’t a circumstance most girls wouldn’t find themselves in. Adapting is the best way to do things.” She put the knife in its holster before looking at the other two in a questioning manner. Kaito was about to raise an objection when Tenko cut him off excitedly.

“That was amazing, Junko! I’m seriously impressed-- the way you took that zombie down so effortlessly had me shook.” Tenko grabbed the other girl’s hands with a bright smile. A pink tint touched her cheeks before she quickly shook her head, smiling a little bit.

“I don’t suppose it was that cool. That was just the most tactful approach I could think of.” Tenko continued to fawn over her while Kaito looked around the new rubble. While it was hard to see at first glance, more and more hands started popping into vision along with other body parts finding their way to the surface. Kaito held back a disgusting feeling in his throat and grabbed Tenko much to her dismay and started running fearfully. It took one glance before Junko realized that she should be running too. She caught up with her group easily, keeping pace and calmly surveying her surroundings for other threats.

The group ran for what seemed like forever, their feet starting to throb in pain. Kaito cursed himself for his sense of fashion, but he couldn't pass up a pair of galaxy slippers, knowing full well that they wouldn’t be able to stay together past the following couple days.

“How the hell are you not complaining about your feet while you run in your geta? It just doesn’t make sense!” Kaito yelled to Tenko, who was now on her own two feet running towards what looked like a junkyard.

“Training for long hours every day definitely helped, meaning you have no excuse to be whining about your footwear! Isn’t training for anything aeronautical hard, or do they just let any degenerate male in?!” Tenko retorted, causing Kaito to shut up. They made their way to the rusty scenery, piling into a small office building on the side of it to rest. Everyone in the building struggled to catch their breath while barricading the door. When they had finally managed to make it hard to get through, Kaito had fallen to the ground, taking a knee and groaning.

He looked at his leg, which he knew had been infected only an hour before. He looked back up at the two girls in chairs talking to one another, and his heart sank. He wasn’t ready for his hero work to be done, especially when there were still people out there that needed him. He still wanted to recruit sidekicks and live his life for those who were afraid to do things for themselves. He bit his lip, pondering whether or not to break the news while they had a place to breathe.

“You look like you have something on your mind, what’s up?” Junko asked, kneeling in front of the man with curious eyes. He blinked a couple times before backing up on instinct. He paused for a moment before deciding on what to do.

“I was just thinking about some of my previous sidekicks. You remind me of one of them. Maki roll had a hard time tackling her greatest enemy, and I can’t help but think that you’re doing the same thing.” He confronted. While it wasn’t what was actively on his mind, he figured now would be a good time to bring up what had been bothering him before.

“...” The shocked silence filled the building with a tension that was hard to cut through at first, but Kaito was determined to get to the bottom of it. He stood back up, ignoring the dull pain in his leg as he did so.

“Well? What’s your enemy?” He challenged, making Junko close her eyes and sigh. She got back up, dusting off her pants and looking away from him.

“I guess you could say my problem is one that I can’t face. There’s not a way I can get those words out of my mouth that wouldn’t end catastrophically for your hopes.” Kaito growled in frustration, unsatisfied with her answer.

“That’s a cowardly thing to say.”

The room fell quiet once more, and Junko felt like a different person entirely as she stared at the floor away from the two of them intensely. There was a moment where, if Kaito had been in any other situation, would have ran as if his life depended on it. She moved quickly, turning to him and getting close to his face.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be unable to give yourself a decent enough haircut! The idea that I don’t look like runway material because some idiot decided to cause the dead to make a fuss is really pissing me off.”

“But, didn’t you say you had military traini-” Tenko asked behind the two of them tentatively.

“What, can I not have both careers in my past?” Junko raised an eyebrow and scoffed. Tenko raised up her hands defensively, deciding she’d be better off minding her own business.

“I’m not gonna believe that’s what’s bothering you unless you prove otherwise. You don’t seem like the type to fret over your appearance.” Kaito said dismissively, waving his hand. With that, the three of them sat awkwardly, Tenko looking through the desk to see if she could find anything to fight with.

“Any luck finding food on that desk?” Junko asked as she fiddled with the vest she had found in a military stock store. Tenko threw a pack of ritz crackers to Junko, who caught it in one hand and observed it for herself. She would’ve normally made a remark about how little it was, but she knew better than that with some of the brutal training she had endured before.

As they sat in silence, Junko seemed to ruminate on being confronted so brashly. Her appearance was the furthest from her worries, but she couldn’t come out and say otherwise. Telling the people you’re traveling with that you aren’t who you’ve claimed to be the entire time would cause a commotion, but keeping it from them felt crueler. She wasn’t anything like her sister. The real Junko would be taking in all of this horrifying experience with demented pleasure. While she may have been like that at one point, it was Mukuro who just wanted to get away from the name that caused so much trouble in the past.

Her real name was Mukuro. Even stripped of her sister’s clothing and the wig she had worn to disguise who she was, she still had kept the name and the M.O. of her now missing sister. Truth be told, she had regretted it when she had met all of her classmates for the first time. That being said, she felt incredible relief when Makoto had saved her and continued to do so with all of their other classmates, but she still hadn’t apologized for hiding her identity. Everyone split up after the failed killing game in an attempt to fix the havoc her sister created, leaving her to her own devices. She floundered around for a bit before finding a purpose in supplying those in need with weapons to fight against the looming threats. She learned not to think too much about the people she sold to, as they probably weren’t going to make it incredibly far.

It wasn’t long before Tenko broke the silence accidentally, her stomach growling loud enough for everyone to hear. She refused to acknowledge the two sets of eyes watching her with worry.

“When was the last time you ate?” Kaito asked. Tenko shrugged as she went underneath the desk, trying to break a locked cabinet for whatever slim chance it had of being something useful. Mukuro looked at the crackers she had been tossed before sighing and walking over to Tenko, bending down so she would be closer to whatever compartment she had been working on. She opened the pack and ate a couple of the crackers before handing them to Tenko.

“H-hey, Junko! I thought you wanted these?” She asked, looking down at her.

“It wouldn’t do you any good to go hungry, though. Models have to starve to be magazine-ready, so this is nothing new.” She examined the lock that was barring their progress. With a pistol she’d been carrying, she motioned to Tenko to cover her ears. She obliged, and Mukuro shot the lock, ignoring Kaito’s scream as it disabled the mechanism, putting it beyond repair. She smiled as she got back up, looking over at Tenko and motioning her to open it for herself. She nodded quickly as she pulled at it’s handle. Her eyes lit up at the contents; she had found not only a couple first aid kits, but enough candy to fill a shoebox. She looked around for a bag, rustling around until she found one. She started scooping out the contents and putting it into the bag, reminiscent of a trick or treater.

“You know you could’ve warned me you were about to do that, right?” Kaito mumbled, his ears still ringing from the sound. Mukuro walked over to him, looking him in his eyes.

“You’re right, I could have. But I was mad at you.” She looked up in contemplation before fiddling with another holster near her knife. Kaito closed his eyes in fear only to be smacked with a crinkling wrapper. He watched it fall to the floor for a moment before scrambling to pick it up.

“Where did you get this? Have you been holding onto this the entire time?!” He yelled. She nodded, mumbling something about not always being as selfish as she seems. He glanced at it, wondering whether or not to bother eating. If he was going to die, wasn’t it just wasting resources?

That’s right. Death was around the corner for him.

The realization hadn’t fully set in until he looked at the chocolate chip granola bar for a little too long, realizing there was going to be a final meal he ever ate. There was going to be a final set of words to send the two girls off with. There was going to be so many lasts, and he wished he hadn’t let that sink into his head.

“...lo? Hello?” He blinked a bit as a pale hand waved in front of his face quickly, causing him to blink and snap out of his thoughts. He smiled, and unwrapped the bar.

“You do know that we should get a move on as soon as possible, right?” He asked as he continued to chew, causing Tenko to make a disdainful face at his actions. Mukuro hesitated, looking down at the ground before nodding. She made one last look around the room for anything important they could take with them. She found a crowbar, and held it in her hands.

“What have you been fighting with?” She asked Kaito. He laughed, and it was only then that Mukuro realized she hadn’t seen him hold a weapon the entire time they were working together. She shoved the crowbar into his hands, and he noticed her disapproving glare. He decided to ignore it, taking it. With a quiet grumble of gratitude, he looked out the window to see it was still light out, and their quiet safe haven was about to become incredibly infested.

He was cursing their luck of having nothing to use in the means of faster travel when he noticed something he hadn’t seen before: a small minivan. He gasped, pulling Mukuro by the shoulder so it would be in her view too.

“Wait, really? Do you think there are any keys around here?” She asked. Tenko resumed looking around the room, and Kaito continued to look out the window until he finally found what he was looking for. On a pile of rubble, in a probably cold and lifeless hand, was a key ring with multiple keys on it. Without telling the others his plan, he dashed out, cursing as he felt rocks get into his slippers. He continued moving in fear of the horde that was on the horizon getting too close for comfort. Tenko hastily grabbed the bag with one hand and Mukuro in the other before making a break for it after him, coming to his side in case he needed any aid. He grabbed the keys and ran to the car, unlocking it.

The group piled into the car, buckling their seat belts as Kaito slammed the keys into the ignition. He felt the car stutter beneath him, not fully starting. He took the key out and put it back in quickly, but to no avail; the car wasn’t turning on all the way.

“Why isn’t it working, damnit?!”

“Turn on the car!!”

“I’m trying!!!”

“Turn the wheel left and right quickly, it’s probably locked, causing the car to not fully turn on,” Mukuro said quickly, making the motions of turning the wheel to him. He obliged, mimicking her motions as she turned the key for him. The car finally turned on, and Kaito hit the gas pedal a bit harder than he should’ve. He winced at the growing pain in his leg as they sped off, leaving the zombies behind. Mukuro watched the way he favored his other leg, choosing not to say anything about it for the time being. Instead, she looked in the glove compartment for anything that could fill whatever silence they were about to be in. an old iPod touch was sitting there with the charger cable still inside. She held the button for a few moments as the screen turned on and a logo brightly shined on the black background.

“Guess we aren’t gonna have to sit in silence, eh? Good find!” Kaito stated.

“Ooh, does it have any Beyoncé? I haven’t gotten to listen to her since this started!” Tenko piped up from behind them, poking her head between the two front seats. They waited with baited breath as the screen turned on. Mukuro unlocked the phone, thanking whatever god was out there for the fact of someone not putting a pin on it. She ran through the apps, amused at how many free to play games were on it along with a Youtube MP3 converter. She looked through, a little baffled at the choices of music. In the end, she went with what looked like a podcast of Dungeons and Dragons. The car was filled with loud music, and it faded into the dungeon master talking of elves on a runway, voguing as one of the members got incredibly excited.

Byt the end of the drive, they had listened to three episodes, wishing that they could have downloaded the previous episodes. Kaito stopped in front of a lone house on a hill, seemingly abandoned. He motioned to it as he turned off the car and got out. The others followed in pursuit, watching his back as he opened the front door with no human response from inside. They looked around the house, astounded at their luck; there was no sign of zombies being in the vicinity of the place. Tenko squealed when she went into a room and found a soft bed, burying her face into it. Mukuro looked in a garage, finding multiple tools for barricading the door. Kaito looked into the kitchen, finding boxes of cereal and cup ramen.

They all came back to the front door, reporting what they found. Mukuro looked at them as she held a hammer and a fistful of nails.

“Can you guys get the table from the dining room? If that’s possible, we should be able to use the tabletop for keeping the door shut.” Tenko and Kaito nodded and went over to it, lifting it up with some ease. Kaito held back the urge to scream as his leg felt more pressure than before. They brought it up to the front and propped it against the doorway. With some time and a bit of labor, they were all pleased with their haphazard blockade.

For a moment, everyone stood silent, unsure of what to do. Kaito felt the glances of his two companions practically asking for orders, and he moved a hand through his not as spiky hair, trying to find some excuse to be on his own.

“I, uh, think I need to get some rest. Not sure what you two need to do, but you should keep in mind an opportunity like this doesn’t happen everyday. Hopefully not sleeping on the floor will do wonders,” He chuckled a bit as he saw Tenko look away, already eyeing the bedroom she had went to earlier. Mukuro nodded solemnly, already walking off to what Kaito assumed was the living room. He stood there a moment longer before finding a bathroom and locking the door quietly.

Whether he wanted it to be or not, this would probably be the final stop he had before turning. He put his leg up on the toilet seat gently and rolled up his pant leg, seeing if there was anything he could do. He grimaced as the wounds discoloration had taken more of his leg than he realized possible. He put a hand over his mouth to make sure no one heard him as he poked it, recoiling almost immediately at the searing pain that came with the touch. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself before looking in a medicine cabinet. There wasn’t much for tending to wounds, but dressing was a different story.

While it wasn’t much, a medical wrap laid untouched next to what he assumed were medical staples. He took the wrap and held it and quickly ripped some toilet paper to act as gauze. After gently putting it on the wound, he began wrapping it. The sting from a foreign substance felt sickening and he had to stop frequently to make sure he didn’t make a sound. When he had finished, he looked at a clock and cursed to himself. He flushed the toilet, making a sigh purposefully loud enough for everyone to hear. He quickly rolled back down his pant leg before walking out, giving a huge thumbs up to Mukuro, who had been pouring a bowl of dry cereal.

“You were in there awhile, you okay?” She asked softly, putting down the box. He gave a thumbs up, walking over to the sink in the kitchen.

“Yep! It’s just that sometimes, nature calls!” He turned the sink on and began washing his hands.

“For an hour?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

“... Huh. Seems legit,” she said, shrugging as she went to find a spoon in one of the many drawers. He let the tension in his shoulders go for a moment, taking in the moment of relaxation. It wasn’t until just then when he realized the place had a back door into what looked to be a fenced backyard. Curious, he opened it and took it in.

Truth be told, it wasn’t much of a yard to begin with. The grass was growing in patches and weeds were taking over the area, leaving no space for legitimate growth. Dandelions sprinkled the enclosure, the white balancing out the green of the yard nicely. The area was small, but he supposed it would’ve been enough for a small child and maybe a dog to play in.

He let himself sit in the grass, holding one of the many dandelions between his fingers gently. Life had never been so important to him until his was going to be gone in what he could only assume would be hours. His uncharacteristically slow and uncertain actions would’ve made Shuichi or Maki ask how he’d been, but he knew that they were somewhere further along the trip to Canada (or, so he’d hoped.). He took his jacket off and laid it in the grass before sitting down and looking up. The sky was just as blue as it had been before this mess had started. He hated to think it, but he knew it’d most likely be like that long after he was gone too.

“Mind if I join you?”

Kaito looked behind him to see Mukuro still holding her cereal, leaning on the doorway. He patted part of his jacket, and she walked over to sit next to him. The quietness they shared while she crunched on her cereal was more comfortable than it had been before.

“Has something been bothering you?” Mukuro finally asked, looking over to him. He bit his lip, looking away as he thought about the question.

“Well, of course. Lots of things bother a person when they gotta run through an entire country,” Kaito stated.

“I don’t think that you’re telling me the entire truth.”

“Maybe so, but sometimes it’s just challenging.” He held the dandelion out in front of him for a moment before blowing on it, letting the pappus fall apart. One of the seeds got incredibly close to Mukuro’s nose, causing her to sneeze. He bit back a remark of the sneeze being kind of cute. She glares at him, shaking her head.

“You know, for someone who wants me to tell them what bothers me, you aren’t exactly setting an example.”

“Maybe setting an example could compromise how you look at me.”

“Wow, it’s almost like that’s the exact reason I didn’t tell you what you wanted to know.” Mukuro grabbed at some grass absentmindedly, trying to find something to do with her hands. Kaito looked her up and down, thinking about if he should just bite the bullet and admit to his impending doom.

“I uh.... You really want me to go first, huh?” He said, mumbling. She gave him a look of curiosity before nodding. He took a breath and held it in for a moment.

“What I’m gonna say is gonna be really rough, and I need you to not react horribly or anything,” he said, the silence making him pressured to continue. “Time is… not really on my side, if you know what I’m saying.”

“What are you-” Mukuro started, her eyes squinting.

“I know you haven’t known me long, and I know that this is super sudden, but I’m probably gonna bounce tonight to make sure I don’t infect anyone here when the time comes, I-”

“What?!” She whipped her head around to see his slightly pained face as he looked down at his leg. She scooted over to him and rolled up his pant leg before he could object at all. The putrid smell of the injury made her gag, and the sight definitely matched the scent. She moved away, a hand to her mouth as she backed up. Kaito looked away from her and the discoloration that was crawling up his leg more than he’d seen before. When Mukuro finally regained her composure, she looked at him.

“I’m-” she paused, trying to hold down the gross taste in her mouth, “... I’m gonna chop it off.”

“What?! No!!” Kaito screeched, looking at her in fear.

“Is everything alright down there?” Tenko called, opening the window and looking down at the two of them.

“U-uh, yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine. Just an argument and stuff.” Kaito quickly explained, giving Mukuro a nervous smile. She hesitantly nodded, waving up at Tenko.

“It’s fine, really. Don’t let us stop you from what you’re doing.” Mukuro smiled softly, and Tenko gave her a thumbs up before closing the window. Kaito looked at her again with the same horrified look.

“Are you insane?!” He hissed at her, getting up. “I need both legs to be able to go places; disabling me is practically a death sentence anyway!”

“Sure, but have you considered that you’re with other people? I’d be more worried if I were alone, but you should rely on those around.” She responded with worry as she watched him sort of struggle to get upright. Mukuro decided to prop him up, slinging his arm around her neck.

“Either way, I’ll probably die. Even if it wasn’t going to be the death of me, I’d feel useless not being able to rescue people with the rest of you. When me and Tenko first found you and brought you back to somewhere safer, you have no idea how…“ He fumbled over his words and started waving his hands wildly in an attempt to regather his thoughts. “... How inspiring it was-- that’s probably the closest I’m gonna get to whatever I was trying to say-- to see that we could make a difference. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?”

Mukuro thought about it, remembering when they first found the girl Tenko had called Himiko in a pile of rubble, muttering about not having the mana to stop the building from toppling after a siege and carrying the small girl on her back made her feel. She remembered bringing her back to the camp and helping her patch up some of her clothes and sharing a meal around the fire with the three of them. The thought of that warmed her up a bit, and she dropped her shoulders slightly.

“I guess I understand what you’re talking about.” She watched his face go through a few emotions, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was recalling it all too.

“Then maybe you get that I can’t just let that ideal go.” He stared her down with a fire in his eyes she’d never seen. Passion seemed to be what motivated him, but it’d never felt like it was going to physically manifest in front of her.

“... You’re really just going to let yourself die, huh.” Mukuro mused, choosing to suspend her disbelief.

“If that’s how you view it, then sure.” He finally rolled down his pant leg again, doing his best to drape it in a way that would avoid the sensitive area. His hands planted on the ground as he struggled to get up, groaning when his legs finally cooperated. He offered a hand to Mukuro, who took it and let him bring her up to her feet. She brushed some of the grass sticking to her off and stared at Kaito, who was already walking into the house and waving at her.

“Wait!” She clenched her fists and yelled, her eyes squeezed shut. He stopped, and turned his head a bit to look at her. The expressions on her face were an arrange of things he hadn’t seen her show, and it definitely didn’t seem as if it’d be fair to not hear what else she had to say.

“I…” she bit her lip, trembling as she looked to her left. “Mukuro. Not Junko.” She opened her eyes to see him with a brighter smile than he’d ever given. She regained her composure, letting the air in her lungs go. She hadn’t been aware of how she was holding her breath until her chest started feeling weird.

“It’s been a pleasure, Mukuro.” He walked back inside, leaving her out in the grassy area. She looked up at the sky, knowing she did the right thing. She closed the door as she walked back out.

Night fell faster than normal, marking Kaito’s departure. He had been shaking more, and his frame in the light exposed how frail he’d become in the matter of a day. His hand rested on the doorknob of the backyard once more, stopping when a hand fell on his shoulder. He sighed, turning to see Mukuro with a knife in offering.

“There-there might still be some time, so I thought you could change your mind?” She gripped it loosely, giving him an insistent look. He took it, watching the moon’s reflection in it as he brandished it. He looked at the girl who’s eyes stayed on the knife the entire time.

“You know I’m not gonna do it.” Kaito mumbled, pulling his shirt up to show his skin taking the same coloration of his infected leg. She bit her lip again, not taking the knife back as he held it out to her. He watched as Mukuro picked at loose threads, averting her gaze. He closed his eyes, and Maki took her place, playing with her hair and puffing her cheeks out slightly. He chuckled, knowing that there was something that he’d seen in her, the same something was in Mukuro. Her mannerisms, and her strengths-- they mirrored Maki almost perfectly.

He held his tongue from saying how she was like his friend, but took off his coat, draping it on her shoulders. He took off his slippers and placed them carefully near the hinge of the door.

“The impossible is possible, you know.” Kaito thought about how wild it was that he was able to save anyone, like a real hero and smiled. “The toughest challenges are always gonna look scary from a distance, but that just means you gotta be a bit scary too. You just have to hype yourself up beforehand.”

Mukuro watched the way he spoke, his eyes looking up and his hand movements livening him up.

“Just… don’t let those things scare you for too long. It’s been fun.” With a final thumbs up, he opened the door, and shut it, finding the lock on the gate of the little yard.

The moment he was out of sight, Mukuro let her face fall into her palms, finally crying. The bitter taste of failure to keep someone alive stayed in her mouth as she clutched onto his jacket, the sleeves wrinkling under her grasp. Her shoulder shook as she tried to suppress the volume of her cries. She slumped against the door, hiccuping a bit as she held his jacket tightly.

And that’s where she stayed the entire night.

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veridium · 5 years

Text

the good, the bad, and the dirty

GET ON YOUR SUIT & TIES YA’LL BECAUSE WE’RE HEADING TO BEST-DRESSED HELL! IT’S GOING DOWN!

the start of this all // the previous episode

Special thanks to Panic! At The Disco for this segment song title reference. Oof.

The weekend is as it’s always been whenever she goes home: a brain-washing initiative for a Neo-Stepford Wives way of life. While she hides in her childhood bedroom playing “Beverly Hills” on blast to drown out the noise on the other side of the door, the night of the gala rolls around whether she likes it or not. If it wasn’t for Ellinor’s text updates about her weekend with Rutherford tol and Rutherford smol, she probably would have swan dove into her family pool from her second floor mini-balcony just to scare the shit out of her parents. Again.

She gets ready on her own, much to her Mother’s taste for opulence. A red, strapless velvet gown is her piece meal: not nearly her style, but not completely out of left field. When you can’t go black, you go red. Its ruching onto one side gives her a good illusion of a hourglass figure...or so Josephine recommended. She curls her hair and pins it to fall on one shoulder. Red lips and eyeliner sharper than her stiletto heels, and she’s done for caring. Traffic will be hell anyway, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t have her own way of escaping the evening. When she arrives and hangs up on her bluetooth call with Ellinor, the first presence she encounters is her Mom’s of course, because they had spent so much time apart. A whole hour.

Her Mother spends the brief time they have convened on the sidewalk in front of the doors to do the following: side-comment about her dress, wonder why she did not ride with them, and tell her not to do ‘unideal’ things since she is running for Mayor in the Spring so the family has to look presentable. Her step-father, Fred, comments that she cleans up nice, but it too scared of her wrath to do more. She will enter in after they do, to not risk an over-attached link; her preference, not theirs. While she stands off to the side of the main entrance and security detail, she can hear the music: smooth jazz, live, by the echo of it. Which means people will pretending they like jazz, know jazz, go see jazz. Fantastic; as if she wasn’t striving to puke into a ficus during the event anyway.

Then, as if her Champion on a shining Honda bike, Theia pulls up to the valet. She’s wearing a perfectly fitting pair of black straight pants and a matching blazer with a white pressed button-down shirt on the inside. A deep purple pocket square and black matte dress shoes cap off the outfit.

“Josephine work her magic on you, too?” She says with a laugh on her lips when she jogs up.

“Pff, yes, thankfully. You look...like you’re about to buy the entire gallery and tip the man...shit.”

“Yeah well, I gotta polish up once in a blue moon, right?”

“Ugh, a Blue Moon. That sounds so good right now.” Olivia slouches and leans against the cement block planter behind her, full of tropical plants that were undoubtedly planted mature rather than grown. Everything pretty and worth time was purchasable like that.

Theia smiles, and leans next to her. “Hey, come on you fembot. It’ll be over before you know it. Let’s go before we’re not fashionably late anymore. I have a beautiful woman in a pretty dress to see and feel undeserving of.”

The place is a madhouse. Whoever said “little Board gala” was lying out their ass. Oh, wait, it was her Mom. They enter on the first floor, but the locus it down a central, rather wide staircase made of glass and metal. People walk down is as if they’re floating down from on high -- and they probably believe it. At the base is a couple of photographers for local press, and a red carpet. A corny, overdone red carpet.

“God,” Olivia mumbles as they come down the walkway towards the stairs. “I match the carpet.”

Theia chuckles. “No, you out-do it. Come on, keep up the pace.”

“Theia, I’m in heels, and I’m tiny. Your step is four of mine, okay?”

“Then chop chop, miss!”

She elbows her in the side a bit, before rounding the open corner. The lights shining down from the tall ceiling up three floors are yellow and warm, but it doesn’t smooth over the icey, artificial feel of it all.

Elbowing through a few groups of people they stand at the top of the stairwell.

“Ready?” Theia sighs under her breath.

“No,” she responds. Then, with futility, they both start descending. Slow, not for the sake of her enjoyment, but for her shoes and gown skirt. Everything is bad as it is, until out the corner of her eye, a certain head and face flag her vision down like nothing else. Black hair. Pointed, strong nose. Oh God. Oh no.

“Shit,” Olivia curses low, veering in close to Theia. “Theia, I have to get out of here.” They’re still walking to save face, but she wants to run in the opposite direction and never return.

Theia looks out, searching. “What, what’s going on?”

“She’s here.”

“She?”

“She...she who--”

“Oh, shit. That’s her, isn’t it. Here, take hold of my arm.” She doesn’t wait for Olivia to do it, and takes her hand and hooks it under her arm, now looking like she’s escorting her. Olivia pulls back but then, as if on tragic cue, the woman she believes to be the one woman she never wants to see again looks up.

And then their eyes lock. Her heart stops, and her weight falls heavier onto Theia as she gets them down the stairs. It’s like she’s out in the open for a sniper to take her out, elevated above it all on her way down from the bullshit, wealthy heavens. It is a horrible, agonizing few seconds, before she breaks her stare and gazes down at the remaining steps. She’s too far away to see details, but her pristine, but slightly sullen complexion is enough.

People stop and stare up at them, and photographers pine mindlessly. They’re beautiful, well-dressed, and daughters of prominent families. Both rejects of the silver-spooners club, though, for different reasons. They stand together respectfully and wait for the fanfare to pass as it always does after a half minute; afterward, it’s a swift pull to the underside of the stairs and out of sight.

“Fuck! She wasn’t supposed to be here!”

“How did you know? Did she say as much?” Theia follows and stands tall while Olivia paces. Steady for her, as a friend would want to be. But in the moment she wishes Ellinor was there to match her pitch of over-worrying.

“I did--well, like, okay,” she pivots around, “the game was this weekend. The jocks party like heathens. She should be there. Ellinor said--” she stops herself. Ellinor did not say, either way, for sure. She just took the conversation for granted. She pulls out her phone and starts texting like a mad-woman:

--SOS. Cassandra is here!!!! I am losing my mind!!

Theia takes her phone just as the message sends, intervening. “Olivia, get yourself together.”

“No! No no, this is not ‘get together’ time. This is panic ti--”

“It is not! You are going to walk out there and mingle, and be hot, and not back down! Come on, you look dressed to kill. Now is the time, if there ever was one.”

A half-second of deliberation, then… “Nope! Running! Gonna--gonna r-r--”

“Liv!” her hands go to her shoulders. “You have been given a golden opportunity. The queers above have granted you this one fleeting moment of brilliant karma. You, alone, have the power to slay your demons once and for all. Are you going to cower and hide, or are you going to own it?”

Shit, that was a good speech. Olivia holds her breath and bites her lip, trying to man-up. Woman-up. Person-up. Literally anything at this point would help.

“Ugh, fuck,” she continues breaking her promise not to cuss excessively. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, take my arm again, and let’s go.”

As they re-emerge, Olivia can’t help but scoff. “You’ve been watching too much Downton Abbey with Josephine, haven’t you?”

“Agh, no! Just work with me. I have to find a way to challenge her to a duel, anyhow.”

“Jesus. You have been watching it.”

They disburse into the crowd, and Olivia does her best to mingle with meaningless manners to everyone she rubs shoulders and elbows with. Some County Commissioners, a few old people, and some young. It was exhausting, but by the end of the first hour, she had hope. Only one more, and she could free herself. Eventually they did run into good company: Josephine, in a dress just as, if not more beautiful than expected. Purple, matching Theia’s pocket square, and sequined mermaid style.

“My dear,” Josephine said coyly, as Theia left Olivia’s arm for hers. “Traffic wasn’t too much, I hope?”

“Not at all,” Theia kissed her politely against her cheek, hand gentle on her bent elbow, “I just had to persuade Olivia not to run away before she could leave her glass slipper.”

Josie giggles, and turns her attention to their third-wheel. “So, has it been bearable?”

“Not really,” Olivia says as she snags a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and his tray. It’s her third serving in the last hour or so. Theia turns to Josie and whispers something in her ear, all discrete and sexy. Fuck it all, they look so good together. When Josie’s happy face adjusts, she can only hope for the weak alcohol to start kicking in.

“I see,” Josie muses, “I should have known something was afoot when Lelian--”

“Who, now?” Olivia looks and interrupts, more on edge.

Josie raises a brow. “I...uh, nothing. Nope. Nothing.”

“Josie…” Olivia dreads, “what haven’t you told me?”

“I have not kept anything from you! But I am not responsible fo--”

“Josie!!”

The voice that could summon Olivia’s wrath comparable to a thousand suns comes from behind her. In an instant, she evaluates the surroundings for potential sharp objects to use. But it’s not fast enough for darling Leliana, as she appears. They grow their mingling circle to accommodate her.

“Leliana,” Theia nods tenuously, “so good to see you.”

“Theia!” Leliana smiles, before bending forward and kissing her on either cheek. Theia looks nervous, but humors her Parisian attitude. “You look stunning. I am so glad you could make it here.”

“Yes, well, I don’t miss an opportunity to support Josie, or her sister. By the way, Josie, where even is Yvette? She owes me my CDs, still.”

Josie folds her arms and snorts. “I’m afraid she is somewhere flirting with a classmate. Something Lucian, Lucas, I have no idea. It is her night to peacock.”

“So it is,” Leliana adds, before she looks at Olivia, blinking and shaking her head as if she had just appeared out of thin air. Maybe it was her quiet brooding. “Olivia, my goodness! I didn’t even notice you, you are stealthy in a crowd.” She’s wearing a knee-length, black dress. Chanel, maybe.

“Yes, I am, Leliana. Thank you for noticing.” Not stealthy enough, evidently. She isn’t safe from the same double-cheek-kissing, and she survives it with less grace than Theia mustered. But, when it’s over, it’s nothing but glee for everyone else.

“How wonderful. These events can be so boring.”

“They can, indeed,” Theia takes Olivia’s glass before she can knock it back like the inner bar blonde she is. “You are flying solo tonight, Leliana?”

Theia I am going to murder you in your sle--

“Hah! Oh, no, not this time, actually. She’s...hm, let me see!” she looks back over the crowd behind them. At this point, Olivia is praying for the rapture. Something, anything apocalyptic. Or a guy. A guy Leliana has brought as arm candy, named Cliff, who studies kinesiology and loves snickers. “Oh, yes! Hey, over here!” she waves.

Olivia, who has had her shoulders and chin tucked for self-preservation, locks eyes with Theia. She has that same look on her face as she did when she was giving her the pep talk: carpe diem, bitch, it’s time to handle it. Josie also looks at her, more sympathetic than motivational, but they both look away as the person Leliana’s flagging down like a plane draws closer. And so, with a deep breath and raised head, Olivia peeks back over her shoulder to behold her undoing.

A black, long-sleeve jumpsuit, with a plunging neckline that goes to the top of her ribs. Simple, fitted well, and so flattering on her figure. Black oxford-style shoes with a slight heel. Her hair is shiny and soft-looking, so much so she wants to run her fingers through it the second she sees it. For the second time, they lock eyes, and it’s in passing again. But when Cassandra looks at her the whole room becomes abysmal.

“Ah, there you are,” Leliana’s voice echoes from miles away, as if Olivia is underwater. It’s too much. It’s too good. She looks away fast, back to her friends, while Cassandra arrives between where she stands and the redhead ruining her life.

“Theia, I’m unsure if you’ve met Cass--”

“Cassandra Pentaghast,” Theia says, vaguely threatening as she holds Olivia’s champagne to her own lips, “no need to say.”

Leliana doesn’t miss a beat, glossing over the interruption. She places a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder and it inspires Kill Bill sirens in Olivia’s mind that are near-deafening. “Remember I mentioned her? Josephine’s girlfriend,” she adds.

Cassandra’s chin lifts, her tone changing, becoming more interested. “Oh. Yeah?”

Josephine bunches her shoulders all cute and clever, “the one and only, finally in the same place at the same time.” At that, Theia grins and nudges her with affection. Easy, and complete. They fit together.

“Nice to meet you, Theia,” Cassandra finally says, calmer in tone. “I have heard good things about you.”

Theia gives a pointed look back. “Wish I could say th--”

“Yes, I’m afraid I’m too much of a bragger,” Josie, again, softens the blow. “Uh, Theia, why don’t you and I go see about the chocolate fountain I hear is in the east lobby? I’m starting to get hungry, anyways.”

Olivia feels herself go pale, and she looks up, like a light bulb goes off. Her way out is granted, or so she thinks. “Good idea--”

“Oh, I can bring you back something!” Josie smiles, taking Theia in her arm and turning away, “you do not worry about exerting yourself in those stilettos!”

Olivia gives a pained exhale, thinking she’ll just follow anyway. Fuck manners. But then, she’s called by her temper.

“So, Olivia!” Leliana catches her mid step. She turns back to see them both standing to themselves like tall beams of rich snobbery, Cassandra looking reticent while Leliana’s enthusiastic as all hell. “I hear your Mother is running for Mayor in the Spring?”

She swallows hard, and straightens up. Think tall, be tall, take the chance. Make Theia proud before you kill her for all this. “Yes, she is. She’s very excited about it.”

“That is impressive. Running against an incumbent in her own party, no less.”

“Well, Republicans do love plurality of choice, do they not?” she clutches her bag with both hands.

“That’s true. Interesting times. Did you know Cassandra’s cousin will be running for the Democratic seat?”

Cassandra speaks, but is interrupted. “Leliana, that is--”

“It’s all rather hush. Your family is so reserved with their plans. It’s a wonder how they have so much going on.” An awkward half-pause, before Olivia turns more to Cassandra. Their eyes lock, and she softens.

“That is exciting, I’m sure. Congratulations and good luck to your cousin, Cassandra.”

“It..it’s no big deal. Political offices are common trappings in my family.”

Olivia fakes a grin, but her sheepish response is usurped. “Modesty,” Leliana remarks, hands going behind her. “Even with such a recent victory under your belt, no less.”

“Leliana…”

“No,” Olivia interrupts, trying harder, “I heard from Ellinor. You won the game! That is good.”

Cassandra looks back at her, somewhat surprised looking. “It was...it was--”

“It was harrowing, to say the least. A nail-biter. But Cassandra’s been practicing so intensely, and she was a master on the field. Carried the team, if you ask me. It was so special to watch. tout à fait le spectacle!” quite the show. Lord, this woman was working the Francophile angle. It was so painful. So, so painful. Olivia’s eyes glazed a bit, and she let a breath out her parted lips.

“Leliana, really, that is quite--”

“Agh, If you’ll excuse me, both of you. I...I have to make sure my eye makeup hasn’t sweat all over my face.” She looks to both of them, slanting her chin fast before seeing herself away. Behind her, she swears a faint “Olivia” is spoken, but she doesn’t heed it. Ejecting herself into the crowd. Cutting through the legion of people in black blazers and multi-colored gowns she finds a corridor, where a less-dramatic staircase is found behind an exit door. She climbs up one, two flights, heels clicking furiously until she enters the floor. It’s part of the gallery, more desolate with every turn she makes into it. She comes across an offshoot room, wide but not long, where an artist’s works line the walls with a bench in the middle of the floor. It’s white walls, industrial lights above her head, and impressionist-inspired portraits. She’s panting, out of air beneath her tight dress and the spanx. Fuck spanx.

She walks to the far corner of the room and stands in front of a painting, a woman in a black dress with a low back, sitting at a round table. There’s fruit in a bowl, of course. Always fruit in a fucking bowl. A game plan has to be made while she catches her breath. Just as she’s about to get her phone out to call Ellinor and signal her retreat, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Shoes hitting the concrete floor back in the main walkway. Closer, and closer.

“Olivia?” Her voice. It carries well, in the gallery’s cavernous architecture.

She looks to her shoulder, but keeps her back to her. “Oh, hey,” she then turns. Her hand rubs her arm. God, she looks so beautiful. Tall, statuesque, with muscled curves she wants to get lost in. It’s been a week and she’s starved like a year without crumbs.

“Hey,” Cassandra looks anxious, like she hadn’t planned this all through. “I...I’m sorry for Leliana being all...”

“What? No, don’t be. I’m not...that’s not at all why I’m up here. I just needed air. I get flustered in crowds.”

She nods abruptly. “I-I do, too.” Her hand hooks onto her elbow. “You...I almost didn’t recognize you. You look…”

“Yeah, I know.” Fuck. She shakes her head and corrects herself. “I mean, I...thank you. And don’t worry, I don’t hate your date, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s swe--”

“Date?”

She flinches. “I...I just figured...”

Cassandra’s awkwardness melts, and she rolls her eyes and looks away, shaking her head. Everything about her says ‘unbelievable’ with frustration. “Leliana and I are not dating.”

“You...you aren’t? B-but,” she turns to face her head on, hands falling to her sides. “I thought when I saw you both at the coffee shop that morning, I…”

Cassandra steps forward. “She and I, we…” she chuckles drily, “we go to--”

“The same church. Got it.” It always...goes back...to church. She sucks her teeth for a moment, regaining her composure. Everything in her heart says leap forward, make right what was wronged. But her mind says spare more heartache. More awkward silence passes between them, before Cassandra takes another step closer.

“Is that why you’re acting like this?”

“Me? Cassandra, you have been just as aloof as I have.”

“I was trying to respect your space. You were the one who called for it.”

“Yeah, well, you said you agreed and you wouldn’t have time.” Her shoulders go back as argumentative confidence settles in. She’s good at picking fights. Not so much at...well, most other things. But if there was ever a good hail mary for her in a tough situation, it was a sparking conflict. “Um...you know, like I said, no harm done. I was going to get back to the party anyways, find my Mom, she’s--”

“You’re going to leave again.”

She blinks and looks up from her attempt to walk away, and Cassandra is staring at her. Decisive, and impatient. One might even suggest fed up.

“I…”

“You are doing exactly what you did the first time.”

Her cheeks heated. “I beg your pardon?”

A humorless smile. “You think you have it all answered again, and you’re running. You won’t let me explain, because you don’t care. You just want what you want when you want it, and when you don’t, it’s nothing.”

“Ohoho, oh no, you don’t,” the earrings come off...metaphorically.

“Then what’s the truth? Because from where I stand, you’re booking it fast for a woman in heels and a gown.”

“I’m a dancer, I’m used to being on my toes.”

Cassandra folds her arms. “Olivia.”

“Cassandra.” She matches her tone, but staring at her is breaking her apart. “You...you think what happened could just happen and I would not want space?”

“And what exactly happened, in your opinion?”

“You wouldn’t...you just…” she struggled, waving her hand at her side. “You have been making me do all these things, and chase, and I don’t know what I’m chasing! That’s what happened!”

Cassandra stares, a brow raising, but otherwise dead-pan. She then comes even closer. They are now only a couple yards apart when she stops, looking clever again. Clever and infuriating.

“Let me ask this, then: which one of us has initiated all our plans thus far?”

Olivia pouts and stomps her heel, arms crossing. She does mental math: the concert, the coffee date, the Church...thing. The pho outing. The work night in her office. Shit.

“I, uh...y-you.” Dammit. She can’t look her in the eye.

“And who has taken the other to various places that are important to her, so that the other can really get to know her, and perhaps even trust her?”

“...You.”

“And who has--”

“You, okay. You. Fine. Whatever it is, it’s you. I got it.”

Cassandra’s gaze lowers to the floor, and her hands go into her pockets. Shit, the jumpsuit has pockets.

“I think you have miscalculated just who has been doing the chasing.”

“Really?” Olivia rebuffs, “and what exactly are you chasing for, then? You...”

“I what?”

“...Make no sense, Cassandra! You’re all intentional, and you have your rules, but you don’t say anything about what they’re supposed to be accomplishing? I have no fucking idea what you want from me. You think I’m the demanding one, but you’re the one who has all the hoops to jump through with nothing promised on the other side. So what’s up?.” Her voice echoes a little too well, and she hopes they are alone wherever they are in the ridiculous building.

In the wake of her temper, though, Cassandra only frowns and looks to the floor. Pensive, as her eyebrows twitch up. Her lip rolls inward.

“You know, Liv, I don’t think the problem is my ambiguity. You’re too smart for that. I think you knew what I wanted; I think you’ve always known. You’re just upset that you can’t call the shots, even if it means the chance at being treated how you should be treated without having to spell it out or dictate it.”

Ouch.

“...And how should I be treated, then? Like a virginal Princess? To be brought back to the good side from her tawdry exp--”

“Like a person who deserves respect and genuine care as to what her ideas, concerns, and interests are!” her voice lifts, but not in volume. More...in depth. “Do you really think you objectifying me like that is going to resolve the issues you have with objectifying yourself? That every time something goes astray, you can just blame it on my background, when you know so little about it other than what I have so cautiously shown you?”

Her vocabulary, her passion, has and always will get the best of her. Olivia deflates underneath her puffed up chest, now hollowed out and losing the hunger to fight. Cassandra is right, she is not always the most articulate. However, when she is it cuts to the bone. Clean, and merciless.

“I’m not trying to do any of that,” she says, stoic but losing grip, “I’m just trying to do what’s best for me. And from the sounds of it, you have been very mistaken in your understanding of who I am.”

“Oh, have I?”

She swallows. “Yes.”

“Don’t be ridi--”

“Bullshit! You don’t get to call me ridiculous. You don’t get to show up here out of the blue, have your friend torment me on your behalf, and call me ridiculous!”

“I did not come here to torment you, I had no idea you would even be here! You said you hated these kinds of things.”

“I do! I hate them, but my family has me on a leash called ‘tuition.’ What’s your excuse, huh? Needing to show off on the town after your big soccer...thing?!” she bitterly remembers she’s inept at sports. Inept at women, too. It’s a match made in hell.

Cassandra stiffens, and takes a beat. “If it’s anyone doing the tormenting, Olivia, it’s not Leliana. I would look in the mirror for that answer.”

Olivia’s eyes narrow into a hostile, acidic glare even she can feel burn. “How dare y--”

“No, you know what,” Cassandra sets a foot back, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did think I had found someone who turned out to be anything but who I thought they were. I’ll save you the trouble and see myself out. I know how it tortures you to be the first, anyways.” Unadulterated sarcasm. It cuts even deeper than her words.

“How can you--”

“No! Enough is enough. Now maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a taste of what it’s like when the person you can’t get out of your head for some God forsaken reason...ugh, forget it. Have a good night.” She continues back-stepping, hands with palms flat in Olivia’s direction. Olivia’s heart goes quiet again with the hope that maybe it’s all a dream, or Cassandra will come back around the corner and take it all back. But she doesn’t wake up, and Cassandra doesn’t come back. From the distant end of the floor, the fire escape door opens and shuts.

She wants to say goodbye, or mingle to keep up the charade, but coming down the stairs she can’t bring herself to rejoin. She can’t show her face, smiling and graceful, when she feels this way. So, she gets off on the first floor, and heads for the exit. There, she waits like a scorned Greek statue in her pretty gown for her car to be brought around. There’s no messages on her phone, not even from Theia or Josie. They must be having a wonderful night. Good, they should.

She drives off with all her masterful disregard for speed limits. When she brakes at the first stoplight she plugs in her phone to the AUX cord and puts it on one of her weird Spotify Daily Shuffle playlists. The first up is The 1975, “Somebody Else.” She leans forward onto her steering wheel and bursts into tears. Luckily, her last-minute stop before she drives home is nearby. She stops at the Trader Joe’s, strutting with wrath inside in her gown.

All the late night vegan Moms and 20-somethings turn to look at her, and watch her as she marches her way to the alcohol section. Her face was carefully wiped using the visor mirror before she entered, thank God, but she’s still choking back sniffles. While she stands in front of the menagerie of bottles she calls Ellinor, but nothing. Voicemail.

“H-hey, Ellinor. I’m on my way h-home. Things h-happened, and...look, I’m gonna pick up stuff and be back tonight. Maybe y-you’ll be a-awake. I...I love you…” she wants to say more, because the message thus far sounds pitiful, but she hangs up there. She grabs two bottles of mid-priced whiskey and marches, growling at the rum on her way out.

Whiskey and chocolate bars. Elitist, ‘ethically-made,’ over-priced chocolate bars, and she’s out onto the road. Her bags never left her trunk. They rarely ever do when she goes home.

She drives like a Bond stunt woman, but it gets her back faster. By the time she sets foot on the campus parking lot she’s listened to an entire 1975 discography.. The last 20 minutes were no music at all, which, arguably, is the most miserable. But she can’t keep crying while driving.

‘I think you knew what I wanted.’ Past-tense. It’s digging under her skin and driving her wild.

It’s past midnight when she walks into the dorm, barefoot and with her brown paper grocery bag, and everything is as safe as it’s gonna get. Going to her door, a faint sound echoes into the hallway and makes her stop.

Crying...that’s gotta be crying. Olivia turns and jogs down the hall as her stomach sinks with an intuitive feeling that shit has hit the fan. Pressing her ear to the door, her worst fear is realized. Nothing can stop her from shoving a bobby pin from her over-sprayed hair and unlocking her way in.

When she does, it’s bedlam: Sheets tossed, pillows thrown around the room, her string lights on draped on the walls but nothing else. And Ellinor, on the floor, curled up and sobbing.

“Ellinor, oh my God!” she drops everything and falls to her knees, crawling over to her. “Ellinor, hey, hey it’s me…!”

Ellinor flinches, but keeps crying. “L-Liv,” she quivers, “I...I…”

“Shh, sh,” Olivia sits back and pulls her into her lap, wiping her hair out of her face. She’s choking back tears both of self-pity and sympathy, now. In no shape to be a friendly savior, but she’ll try. Ellinor gains enough coherency to roll over into her, shoving her face in Olivia’s stomach. More crying, for what feels like ages, as they hold onto each other.

Then, after some time, Ellinors inhales sharp and congested. “Y-you f-feel like a Build-a-B-Bear…”

Olivia lays her head back against the lower twin bunk wood. Her chin curdles, and she wipes her face. “Y-yeah, I do. It’s a whole t-thing.”

“Liv, I f-fucked everything o-over...and he...h-he…”

“He did what?” she looks down, her attentions all the sudden lethal. “What did that bastard do?”

Ellinor trembles in her shoulders and lays on her back, face up at the ceiling as she rubs her soaking eyes. Still in Olivia’s lap, where it’s safe. “He-he went to the p-party, a-and...wait, did you…” she peers over at the bags. “Did you bring something?”

“Y-yeah,” she rubs her nose, “I went and got our favorite thing.”

“Whiskey?” her nose and lip quiver.

“Yeah. And chocolate, to go...to go in between. Maybe we should just w-wait, wait just a little while to dive in, okay? Maybe...maybe drink water, or some...something like that.”

“Ugh, angel face,” she closes her eyes and takes hold of Olivia’s hand. “You don’t look too hot, either. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Shh, babe,” she sighs, before yanking her necklace off. “Don’t be sorry. It’s...it’s not your fault. We’re gonna be okay, okay?” she takes a breath, and looks at the clock on the dresser. The second catastrophic Saturday night in less than a month. They must be going for a new record.

#college au #college au update #ellinor trevelyan #olivia sinclair #modern!olivia #adventures of ellinor and olivia #PREPARE THYSELVES #FOR THE ANGST

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dangan-ronpa-v3-imagines-blog · 7 years

Text

Yandere V3 Girls

Yandere V3 girls! On an unrelated note, I’m going to be playing around with the blog theme and icon today to make everything look prettier. If the blog looks super weird for a minute or two, that’s why! Said by Mod Iruma.

AKAMATSU KAEDE

She tries to be a good girlfriend, really. But she just can’t help that pit in her stomach when she sees you staring at someone else.

What’s this feeling…? She doesn’t know.

So she googles it.

The results all are really unique, but the result that catches her eye first is one that talks about ‘yandere’.

After reading the article over, Akamatsu comes to the conclusion that this article is the pinnacle of true love and that she should try this “yandere” thing out.

So one night, she approaches someone that stared at you for just a second too long.

“Hi… I saw you looking over at my partner, and look. They’re mine! So, like… if you just keep your hands and eyes to yourself, that would be great. If you don’t… uh… I might have to kill you. So be careful!”

Beat.

“H-Hey! Stop laughing at me, you…!”

It takes your entire allowance to bail Akamatsu out of jail for bashing someone’s head in.

YONAGA ANGIE

Angie starts to bring strangers into your house, claiming they’re going to help her with blood sacrifices!

You shrug it off - you know blood sacrifices are non-lethal - but you can’t help but feel that the strangers look really, really familiar.

When you ask Angie about it, she just giggles.

“We’re all comrades under the light of God! True followers of the faith can recognize the greatest sinner or the greatest believer on sight!”

You recognize that she’s just bullshitting, but you just let her do her thing.

You do get kinda worried when they start screaming from the other room; blood sacrifices aren’t THAT painful, are they?

Eh. You don’t question it. Angie’s been in a better mood than ever before lately, and that’s all that matters to you.

You love getting home every day, because a slightly bloody glomp awaits you.

CHABASHIRA TENKO

Chabashira has been really, really fired up to teach you Neo Aikido lately. You’re excited, but... not nearly as excited as Chabashira is. Nobody could be, honestly.

You show up to the scheduled practice later that night, but for whatever reason, Chabashira’s in a really bad mood.

“You forgot your gi! Ugh... I thought you were gonna be serious about this. But no matter! Come here!”

You walk over and get slammed in the face by Chabashira’s hand.

“...That was for that male degenerate that you toler- wait, no! I mean, sorry!”

She’s an awful liar. But you pretend you didn’t hear the first part.

The entire practice is pretty much a “Chabashira-Vocalizes-Her-Inner-Pain-By-Attacking-You-Over-And-Over” session. By the end of it, you’re less eager to learn Neo Aikido than ever.

“So! Tenko really enjoyed this lesson, did you? Because if you did, she’s holding another session tomorrow!”

From the look in Chabashira’s eye? You know it’s not a choice.

YUMENO HIMIKO

You get a feeling that going to that party last night was a bad idea. Especially having so many drinks.

But Yumeno just kept on buying them for you, over and over, in between all of those glares she was shooting at anyone who got within a one inch radius of you.

You also remember something red spilling... must’ve been that cocktail Yumeno bought for you.

You groggily wake up and stumble into Yumeno’s Magic Room (don’t come in without knocking!). You go in without knocking.

Inside are about 20 bodies of people that you know spoke a word to you last night. Including a cat that hopped on your lap.

Yumeno is fast asleep near a fire she started, covered in ash and soot. She apparently didn’t have the energy to get rid of all of the bodies.

“Mm... never... again... mmm... too much work...”

You want to scream and call 911, but judging from Yumeno’s state, you doubt she’d go on a masacrre again. You hope.

And anyway... if Yumeno went to jail... you’d never see her again. And if she didn’t, what she might do to you is...

You grab your blanket and cuddle up next to her, and fall fast asleep, ignoring the dead body pushing into you.

HARUKAWA MAKI

Figuring out Harukawa was a yandere was easy. Confronting her about it was not.

“Hey, have you seen my friend from school lately?”

“No,” She says, while wiping her bloodied hands on the table mattress. “Why?”

“Harumaki, do you know what happened to that guy I was talking to at the bar?”

“Not a clue,” She says, throwing some more wood into the incinerator. The arm is still sticking out. “Why?”

You finally get the guts to sit her down for an intervention. But before a word comes out of your mouth, you feel your wrist get enclosed in a crushing grip.

Harukawa leans close and begins to whisper in your ear.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. You understand?”

Her nails dig into your skin. You frantically nod, and get rewarded with a condescending smile (but a smile all the same).

After the intervention - which intervent-ed you more than it did her - she’s far more open about her killing sprees. It’s not uncommon for you to walk into the kitchen and see her chopping up some poor guy that bumped into you yesterday.

It’s weird how you slowly grow used to it. But it’s the only way you can cope.

IRUMA MIU

“Yo, sweet-cheeks, look what I just invented! It’s called the “Keep-Shitters-Away-From-People-I-Am-Sexually-And-Perhaps-Romantically-Attracted-To 2000”!”

She pauses.

“Or just “FUCK OFF 2000”. Either or. Here, let me show you what it does!”

She points it as this guy that asked for your number the other day. You can’t stop her from pulling the trigger.

The guy is vaporized into dust. You scream - but it’s the dead of night, so nobody hears you.

Before you can shriek at Iruma how monstrous she was for killing that person you barely knew, she suddenly goes week in the knees.

Sweating harder than people do when they get accused for murder, Iruma looks at you with puppy eyes.

“Erm… you’re the only person who really likes me for me… so… when I saw you lookin’ at this good fer’ nothing little whore… I thought you were gonna leave me… so…”

She points to her death ray. You shudder.

“I ain’t gonna use it on you, but, y’know. If anybody looks at you the wrong way, KYA HA HA! They’ll face the wrath of IRUMA MI-”

You furiously nod your head and pull her into a hug. She giggles and teases you about being a really horny bastard, but that’s not what’s bothering you.

...You shiver with the realization that no matter what you do, you’re never getting away from the glorious, genius, terrifying inventor Iruma Miu.

TOUJOU KIRUMI

You begin to realize something’s wrong when you and Toujou go to investigate a crime scene (a maid accompanies her master everywhere, it seems) and you notice a few… well…

“Hey, Toujou-san, weren’t we here last night? The exact time the guy died?”

She hands out some drinks to the police force and gives a curt nod.

“And this guy died in the bathroom… weren’t you in the bathroom for a really long time, or…?”

She explains that she had to take care of some womanly affairs, as she organizes some of her master’s (the head detective) evidence.

“And don’t I know this guy? Didn’t he make a pass on---”

Her glare tells you to shut up immediately or there will be dire consequences. You do so.

She drops the detective as her master shortly after (and he quickly dies a horrible death), and decides to move the two of you across the country for her new job.

You don’t complain. You’re scared of what would happen if you do.

SHIROGANE TSUMUGI

It’s hard to read Shirogane, harder than you could ever expect. Once she walked into your room with a huge stab wound and she was acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

So you’ve learned to take care watching her and making sure she isn’t doing anything… rash.

Especially after you found a pile of bodies (all dressed up in cosplay) in the basement.

Shirogane’s nonchalant attitude about it was even worse.

“Honey, I’ve read your whole internet history. I know how much you get off to yanderes on a daily basis! Since I’m so plain, I thought I could spice up our public life by---”

You shoo her away and tell her that although you “appreciate” the gesture, killing people is really unnecessary.

She sheepishly bows and promises not to do it anymore.

(You still wonder why screams come from Shirogane’s bedroom sometimes. You brush it off as her watching a gorey anime.)

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #ndrv3 imagines #ndrv3 girls #himiko yumeno #tsumugi shirogane #kaede akamatsu #kirumi tojo #miu iruma #maki harukawa #angie yonaga #tenko chabashira #mod iruma

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danganronpa-imagines · 7 years

Note

Ouma, Amami, Tenko, Kirumi and their S/O trying to cook something new and unfamiliar

How fun! Thank you so much for the request! I had a little trouble with this one, mostly because I had rewritten it a total of 7 times without feeling satisfied with my end product, haha. I want to make sure that I only give my best for you all!

Kirumi Tojo

- As the Ultimate Maid, there exists nothing that she has never cooked or prepared before. No recipe that she hasn’t carried out and no dish or confectionery or baked good that she has not made with her own hands and proudly served. Nothing leaves the kitchen unless it meets her standards, after all.

- So when you suggest that the two of you prepare something unfamiliar, Kirumi was dumbfounded as to what to say or do. That was just impossible. You pondered your request for a little longer. After some thought, you propose making something spontaneous and ridiculous, and, although it did not exactly suit Kirumi’s dignified tastes, she agreed to it to please you.

- So the both of you head to the nearest supermarket, with Kirumi behind the wheel as always since she enjoyed driving. As refined and patient as she is, she would occasionally experience a little road rage and would have to take deep breaths. Because the two of you have been together for such an impressive amount of time, Kirumi has seemed to loosen up around you because you insisted. You wished for a loving partner, not a maid. So since then she has tried her best to be less of a servant and more of an expressive lover to you.

- While at the supermarket, any time that it appeared that Kirumi was picking up ingredients for one particular dish, you would randomly pick up something unconventional and toss it into the shopping cart, flustering her. After some pleading, she gave her consent for you to push her around in the shopping cart, and vice versa. You both had fun, and came home with an assorted bunch of ingredients. Nothing leaned toward a specific recipe, but the two of you decided that both of you would make dishes out of some of the ingredients and occasionally add in something unorthodox, or even combine them with other dishes.

- In the end, the two of you ended up with:

Miso and butternut squash soup

Fried bacon slabs covered with peanut butter (Kirumi does not particularly enjoy fried foods so this was your idea)

Macaroni and cheese (but with quinoa and some chopped almonds instead of macaroni pasta)

Cauliflower disguised to be chicken wings dressed with Kirumi’s newly curated hot sauce (made with mangoes and apples)

Salty cotton candy with hints of lemon/lime (Kirumi has a cotton candy machine stowed away somewhere she was sure of it and you used salt instead of sugar?)

Chocolate avocado ganache cake

- Needless to say, the food combinations were really strange, but the two of you had a great time, and that’s all that really mattered. Also, Kirumi does not see herself doing this again and insists that you leave the cooking to her.

Tenko Chabashira

- You and Tenko mostly dined out, as you both shared a taste for healthier meals but can’t seem to prepare them well yourselves (a bunch of iceberg lettuce dressed with excessive amounts of dressing just wasn’t the same as ‘that one salad with that one dressing’ you had at a restaurant). The two of you were clueless when it came to the names of salads and dressings, despite enjoying them so often. In addition, you both never took too long to eat, and were in and out of cafes and such fairly quickly.

- One day, she suggested that the two of you come up with your own salad dressings! It was going to be so much fun! You could even keep it in those fancy jars that everyone seems to have and everything!

- It was a sudden and unexpected proposal, but you agreed to it. You two could experiment and have fun for a day or two and take a break from your Neo-Aikido training (she was teaching you and you would always jokingly call her your sensei). To the supermarket you go!

- While you were there, you really had no idea what you were doing or planned to do. You just bought a lot of random ingredients (mostly liquids) that you THINK would be good in salad dressing. You left the store with red wine vinegar, cherry wine, garlic, white wine vinegar, almonds, peanuts, sesame seeds, chia seeds (Tenko insisted on chia seeds because they looked like sesame seeds so why not), olive oil, salt and pepper, dijon mustard, honey, all the seasonings, red onions, rice vinegar, lemons and limes.

- Here were your end results (Tenko labeled the jars with what was inside):

Red wine vinegar, salt and pepper, olive oil, chia seeds.

Paprika, sesame seeds, dijon mustard, honey, a little salt and pepper.

Rice vinegar, red onions, lemon, salt and pepper, sesame seeds.

Olive oil, white wine vinegar, chopped thyme, lime zest, salt and pepper.

Garlic, peanuts, rice wine vinegar, honey.

- There were some hits and misses, but overall, you and Tenko felt a little more accomplished since you two invented new things!

Kokichi Ouma (this was arguably the most difficult, since I felt his was boring)

- It was around 10 PM. You and Ouma were nestled comfortably on your couch, complete with plenty of pillows and blankets since that’s how he liked it best. Even when it becomes rather humid, he insists on gathering the usual amount of pillows and blankets on the couch. It has been quite a while since he has been this calm. You were running your hand through his hair, and he purred with each stroke. That was, until, an advertisement for a soda making machine appeared on the television.

- His ears seemed to perk up just like a small animal’s, and he turned his face to the screen. Everyone and their mothers knew of Ouma’s love for Panta, a grape flavored soft drink. It was unhealthy, and you always tried to supervise his Panta consumption, much to his dismay (miraculously, he never obtained any cavities. If he did, it would be gross for you to receive a kiss from him, nishishishi~).

- So when he discovered the existence of a machine that could produce his favorite thing in the world (aside from you, of course), at at home too, he HAD to have it. You were quite content with your position on the couch beside him, but during the advertisement, Ouma pounced off the couch and scurried over to glue his eyes to the television screen. Once it ended, he turned his head to look back at you sadly and almost pleadingly, and before you knew it, both of you were in the car and on your way to the nearest store.

- You returned with the carbonator, some soda flavoring packets, and two large water bottles. The most difficult part wasn’t the actual making of the soda, but rather the assembly of the machine. Neither of you possessed any knowledge on how to assemble things, but somehow you both managed, and all you had to do was place a large water bottle beneath the dispenser and put in the soda packet.

- Ouma was practically vibrating as he saw the soda being made, and once it was finally done, he quickly grabbed the water bottle. But strangely, he did not put it to his lips right away. Instead, he stared at it for a little bit before handing it to you. He was looking downward, so it was difficult to hear him when he shyly said thank you, and told you how much he appreciates you for always going through so much trouble to make him happy.

Rantarou Amami

- After finishing a movie, Amami felt inspired to cook its main dish: ratatouille. He had never heard or seen such a unique dish, and was drawn in by how colorful it was. He asked that the two of you pay a visit to the supermarket immediately, as he did not want the inspiration to slip away. You agreed wholeheartedly, as seeing him Amami this way always brought a smile to your face. His carefree and ‘go-with-the-flow’ attitude prompts him to do things spontaneously and on a whim, but they were usually enjoyable and productive things.

- He insisted that there was no need to replay the clip, as he memorized everything that he saw, and with his basic knowledge regarding cooking matters, he also knew what was fundamentally needed. So the two of you walked to the local supermarket, picked up what you needed, and arrived home.

- Cooking sessions with Amami were always wholehearted and warm. He was always extremely compassionate and enjoyed taking the cooking process slowly, often taking the time to wrap his arms around you if you are working on something and he finished what he was doing, pointing at something and taking some food while you looked away, and planting kisses on your forehead every now and then. You had accidentally cut your hand while slicing the squash, and he immediately went to disinfect it and place a band-aid over it and kissed it.

- For some strange reason, whenever the two of you used the oven, the smell of the food in there seemed to be strong, and whenever you would bring that up, he would always reply with, “Maybe it’s because we prepared it with so much love?”

- Once the ratatouille was finished, he brings it over to the dining table and you two enjoy it together with some laughs and some wine, and discuss how grateful the both of you are for the other.

#danganronpa imagines #danganronpa killing harmony #new drv3 #drv3 imagine #drv3 #kirumi tojo #ouma kokichi #tenko chabashira #amami rantarou #sfw #modkiibo really tried

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agent-7-at-your-service · 7 years

Text

Future Plot: The Price We Pay - Chapter 4 - Depression

((Agent 7 and Calypso belong to me.

Camile (mentioned) belongs to @inklingleesquidly

Nebula (not mentioned) belongs to @agenttwo and @myzzy

Emerald and Sapphire belong to @son-of-joy and @twelvetailedkitsune

After that meeting I locked myself up in my office in Alexandria District; I asked my friends and co-workers to manage the district as I declared my hiatus. I was under emotional stress and depression at that time, suffering from heartbreak. Authorities found out I wrecked the Neo Squid Sister's studio, but I did pay for the damages. The producer had to relocate the studio for the girls.

During that shutdown, so many memories flowed through my mind about Marie. Then there were the memories of how I tried to fill the void in my heart.

I already told you about my marriage with my Octoling rival, Sarah, now I'll tell you my marriage with Calypso, my arch-enemy. Years ago, when we were all young, and kids like Camille, Emerald, Sapphire, and Justinian weren't born, you can say we were star-crossed lovers. She actually offered her hand in marriage along with the island she lived on. At that time, I didn't know she worked for the notorious organization, Levithan.

From what I can remember after my divorce with Sarah Phenotyne, I made my way to Calypso's island some miles away from Inkopolis immediately. What was running through my head was that she was the only option. She's the only one close enough to fill the void.

Calypso, an unrequited lover, my arch enemy, and now I'm offering her something she offered to me years ago: my hand in marriage. And a year later, I made her dream come true.

Calypso's Island, Off the Coast of Inkopolis - 11:10 AM

Agent 7 and Calypso were at the beach, wearing their usual attires, enjoying the breeze. The newlyweds can be seen sitting on a stone bench made by Calypso's minions, she was resting her head on Agent 7's shoulder. Agent 7 held her hand and felt the same love he would've shared with Marie.

The sun was setting on them.

The next week, Agent 7 started feeling something that shouldn't be there. It was doubt -- doubt and second thoughts -- and it was reminding him that he can't replace Marie. Agent 7 shrugged it off.

The week after that, Agent 7 cut contact with his friends and family, except for some of his allies he knew in his old agent days.

But the week after that, that is where Agent 7 started to drift away and isolate himself.

Study Room - Calypso's Island, Off the Coast of Inkopolis - 9:20 PM

He ended up locking himself up at night in a study room that Calypso built for him. Music played and it was a song he and Marie collaborated on: it was a cover for a very old song. Agent 7 recalls that collaboration was the first time Marie taught him how to play the piano. It was the first time Agent 7 taught Marie how to play Jazz.

((Song that's playing: https://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/your-universe ; credits to Marcus Carline with Rachel St. Marseille (voice), Steve Blum (piano), Nicole Sequeira (bass), and Eric Hagstrom (drums) for such a deep and moving song.))

The song reminded Agent 7 of Marie, but the last three stanzas left an imagery in his head:

Our love was hot, but I was cold. You always made me feel so blue. But when I said draw and you shot, it was obvious that you were colder.

I'm not unhurt, but you lost out. When I said draw I just knew that you would. You'll miss me so when I'm gone. I'll miss you so when I'm gone.

Love or hate I was your girl I was your world I was your universe.

Agent 7 interpreted those lines into one of the very facts that fits his relationship to Marie: He will never have Marie, not because of Blueshift, but because of him -- Agent 7. It was his envy and overprotection that made Marie choose Blueshift over him. And that last stanza was also true, whether he forever hates Marie or still loves her, Marie is just Agent 7's Green Light just as Gatsby's future with Daisy was his Green Light.

All Agent 7 can do is realize what he did now and weep.

He's lost.

Patio - Calypso's Island, Off the Coast of Inkopolis - 9:00 AM

In the morning, he decided to tell Calypso the truth. He sat with her at a patio and told her he is divorcing her and that he is returning to Inkopolis immediately. Calypso already knows why, so she gets up and slaps him.

"I may not be her... you made your vows... you even wanted to raise a family with me! Now you're leaving me!" There was a tone of distress in Calypso's voice, one that Agent 7 once had. "Marie isn't going to be there to love you! Isn't anyone else love enough for you!?"

Agent 7 steps back with a hand on one cheek. ".......It's not just because of that................. I still remember one thing..... we're enemies. We're star-crossed lovers." He turns away. "I rather move on alone than with an enemy or a rival or even with one that I would never love. Goodbye."

Once Agent 7 left the house, there were small fresh-faced droids armed with tridents, crossbows, shields, and curved blades. They were Atlantean Droids. Calypso wasn't going to let him leave, but Agent 7 will have to fight them. He pulls out his N-zaps: Izanagi ('83) and Izanami ('89 with Marie's signature). He managed to shoot them down like any octarian automaton.

But as he headed straight for the docks. Calypso already has her minions surround him halfway; she had her Charger-Brush hybrid aimed at him. Agent

"You're not leaving my island," Calypso stated, "You can't just leave me like that!"

Agent 7 turns around, armed with his N-zaps. "What do you want me to do, fight for the divorce?"

"......Yes." Calypso sounded cold. "If it means keeping you forever..."

Agent 7 puts his duel N-zaps away and takes out his signature melee weapon, a standard paintbrush (not brushes in turf wars) dipped in green ink. He used it like a combat knife. Calypso remained with Hanzo, her charger-brush hybrid that was styled into a musket and wolf tail brush.

The beach is silent, a seagull can be heard, then the winds from out at sea, and it was empty for the fight to just be between Agent 7 and Calypso. The two charged and clashed, close combat isn't common in turf wars, but Agent 7 has sort of mastered in it since his first mission. Calypso's masters in stick fighting and she rarely fire ink shots from her charger and uses the brush like a spear.

Their fight lasted until the sun was setting. Agent 7 is already beginning to show exhaustion; he was getting old and this fight is not like before. Calypso has been staying fit all this time, and as a genetic clone, her modifications showed she is still herself.

Calypso disarms Agent 7 of his combat brush, she then puts her weapon away and started delivering a combo of punches, chops, and kicks. Agent 7 wasn't even defending himself. Calypso soon kick him with all her strength, making him fly across the beach and land near the steps of the docks. She then took out a syringe and steps towards Agent 7's broken body. There were claw marks on Agent 7's ponytail.

I gave it my all and it wasn't enough... I guess my agent days were too far behind me....... Calypso has outmatched me................ I guess you could this is supposed to be where my Agent days were gone.......... I tried calling out to you all..... but you never came...

Calypso is on top of Agent 7 she drives the syringe into his chest. Agent 7 shouted.

"Like the real Calypso, I offer you immortality..... as you grow older... the ones you love will never be there..." Calypso whispered into his ear. "If I can't love you, no one can..."

And because no one helped me, my despair turned my agony into rage... I must fight for myself now...

Agent 7 soon snapped and kicked Calypso off. He took out his N-zaps and fired a few in shots. Calypso took the hits and felt a bit weak. It wasn't enough to splat her, but it was enough to prevent her from continuing to fight him.

Agent 7 steps back and turns around, limping to the nearest boat. Leviathan minions were about to pursue, but Calypso hand-gestured them to no do so. She watches Agent 7 leave on a boat that's heading towards Inkopolis.

Calypso looked down and placed a hand on her abdomen, looking sort of relieved as if she was protecting something.

And once I got myself out of that island...... I must come to terms...

#Future #Plot #The Price We Pay

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everettwilkinson · 7 years

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BANNON ON CHOPPING BLOCK — CEOs run from Trump after Charlottesville response — MOOCH on Colbert — JOSH GREEN named CNN analyst — DANA BASH to get GW alumni award

Good Tuesday morning. INTEL’S BRIAN KRZANICH has dropped off President Donald Trump’s American Manufacturing Council.

THE AFTERSHOCK — “Trump gives heartburn to American CEOs,” by Dan Diamond: “It took three weeks for Merck CEO Kenneth Frazier to go from a ‘business genius’ to a ‘ripoff’ drug executive — at least in the eyes of President Donald Trump. Frazier appeared at the White House on July 20 to celebrate a new jobs initiative, where the president hailed him as a ‘great, great business leader’ and thanked Merck for investing in American jobs. But on Monday, the president blasted Frazier after the executive announced he was leaving a White House advisory council over Trump’s failure to condemn the hate groups that demonstrated in Charlottesville, Va. …

Story Continued Below

“Frazier’s decision and his subsequent tongue-lashing on Twitter illustrate the tricky balancing act for America’s CEOs: Avoid Trump and run the risk of being his target — or get close to this White House at your peril. More than two dozen CEOs and other leaders were invited to serve on Trump’s councils, a somewhat symbolic role that gives business executives a chance to bend the ear of the president and potentially win favorable treatment. A number of those leaders, like General Electric’s Jeff Immelt, also served on similar advisory councils for former President Barack Obama.

“Late Monday, Intel’s CEO, Brian Krzanich, posted in a company blog that he, too, was stepping down from the manufacturing council. ‘I have already made clear my abhorrence at the recent hate-spawned violence in Charlottesville,’ he wrote, ‘and earlier today I called on all leaders to condemn the white supremacists and their ilk who marched and committed violence. I resigned because I want to make progress, while many in Washington seem more concerned with attacking anyone who disagrees with them.’ That announcement followed tweets from Under Armour, which said its chief executive, Kevin Plank, had decided to quit, as well.” http://politi.co/2wLch10

— IAN KULLGREN: “AFL-CIO President Richard Trumka hinted [Monday] that he may resign from President Donald Trump’s manufacturing council after the president’s initial reluctance to condemn white supremacist and neo-Nazi marchers in Charlottesville, one of whom allegedly killed a young woman protesting the march. In a statement to POLITICO, Trumka also criticized the White House manufacturing council as ineffective.”

— TRUMP SEEMS TO LOVE nothing more than meeting with CEOs at the White House. He’s had more public meetings and roundtables with executives from different industries than President Barack Obama or President George W. Bush. (The pace of the gatherings has slowed considerably.) But, if he gets too close to controversial issues these CEOs will be quick to skip a photo-op or appointment to what are largely ceremonial positions.

**SUBSCRIBE to Playbook: http://politi.co/2lQswbh

BANNON GETS NUDGED UNDER THE BUS — NYT, A1: “Bannon in Limbo as Trump Faces Growing Calls for the Strategist’s Ouster,” by Maggie Haberman and Glenn Thrush: “Rupert Murdoch has repeatedly urged President Trump to fire him. Anthony Scaramucci, the president’s former communications director, thrashed him on television as a white nationalist. Lt. Gen. H. R. McMaster, the national security adviser, refused to even say he could work with him.

“For months, Mr. Trump has considered ousting Stephen K. Bannon, the White House chief strategist and relentless nationalist who ran the Breitbart website and called it a ‘platform for the alt-right.’ Mr. Trump has sent Mr. Bannon to a kind of internal exile, and has not met face-to-face for more than a week with a man who was once a fixture in the Oval Office, according to aides and friends of the president.

“So far, Mr. Trump has not been able to follow through — a product of his dislike of confrontation, the bonds of a foxhole friendship forged during the 2016 presidential campaign and concerns about what mischief Mr. Bannon might do once he leaves the protective custody of the West Wing. … Despite being marginalized, Mr. Bannon consulted with the president repeatedly over the weekend as Mr. Trump struggled to respond to the neo-Nazi rally in Charlottesville, Va. In general, Mr. Bannon has cautioned the president not to criticize far-right activists too severely for fear of antagonizing a small but energetic part of his base.” http://nyti.ms/2vXkDF5

— THIS FEELS LIKE a Friday-night-in-August type of departure. Don’t touch that dial. … MAGGIE and GLENN hit on this, but many top House conservatives truly trust Bannon and use him as a way to send messages to the president. Without him and Reince Priebus, many members of Congress will feel like they have no way into the White House.

— AHEM … — JOSH GREEN has joined CNN as a political analyst effective Monday. He’ll remain at Bloomberg Businessweek.

— FOR WHATEVER IT’S WORTH, Scaramucci told Stephen Colbert last night “if it were up to me” Bannon would be gone. http://bit.ly/2wLDqAC … Colbert: “What was it like for the 10 days you were in there? Did you get a sense of chaos?” Scaramucci: “Listen, I mean, it’s a tough place. There was a lot of infighting. … What people do is they go behind each other’s backs and they leak things to the press and they say nasty things about each other to try to destabilize them or to influence the president’s judgment of them. … You have to have some level of esprit de corps and it didn’t start that way.” … Colbert: “Were you brought in just to get rid of him [Reince Priebus] and Sean Spicer?”

Scaramucci: “Mmm, I don’t want to say that. Ahh, I don’t want to say it that way.” Colbert: “Was it part of your job? … Say it like the Mooch. Give me some Mooch.” … Scaramucci: “The Mooch of Long Island would say there was no love lost there … I didn’t think I was going to last too long, but I thought I would last longer than a carton of milk. I just didn’t last that long.” He also got booed by some in the audience when he said that he knew the president was a “compassionate person.” 10-min. video http://bit.ly/2w9lWka … 3-min. video http://bit.ly/2i1xXmd

ABOUT THAT RESPONSE — “Trump plays both sides with Charlottesville response,” by Eliana Johnson: “President Donald Trump caved to pressure from his senior advisers on Monday when he rebuked neo-Nazis and white supremacists for their involvement in the rally that ended in the death of a 32-year-old Charlottesville woman — but it may have been a Pyrrhic victory. His remarks on Monday, authored in part by chief speechwriter Stephen Miller, put some of his most ardent supporters in the crosshairs, and quelled the outrage sparked by his initial statement, which was widely considered weak and equivocal.

“But the White House’s slow-footed response, which played out over three days, fit a broader pattern that has hobbled the president before. Pushed to condemn some of the ugly factions of the alt-right made prominent by his candidacy, Trump has fallen back on the same tactic: delay, delay, delay. Political analysts said Trump’s drawn-out response was part of a double game — an effort to avoid alienating part of his base followed quickly by a pivot to tamp down the outrage. ‘He feels he can keep his base happy by being mute for 48 hours, and then he can come in and mute the so-called mainstream media world,’ said presidential historian Douglas Brinkley.” http://politi.co/2uXjMj3

SETH MEYERS on Donald Trump and Charlottesville on “Late Night”: http://bit.ly/2wLC2OC

— AP’s Jonathan Drew in Durham, North Carolina: “Protesters in North Carolina toppled a nearly century-old statue of a Confederate soldier Monday at a rally against racism. Activists in Durham brought a ladder up to the statue and used a rope to pull down the Confederate Soldiers Monument that was dedicated in 1924. A diverse crowd of dozens cheered as the statue of a soldier holding a rifle fell to the ground in front of an old courthouse building that now houses local government offices. Seconds after the monument fell, protesters began kicking the crumpled bronze monument. ‘I was a little bit shocked people could come here and come together like that,’ said Isaiah Wallace, who is black.” http://bit.ly/2i2BJLQ

****** A message from the Coalition for Affordable Prescription Drugs (CAPD): If you know only one fact about rising drug costs, know this one: drug makers set prices for prescription drugs. To help manage nearly double-digit price increases, employers, unions and government programs use PBMs to negotiate lower net prices to help curb costs for employers and patients. Learn more at affordableprescriptiondrugs.org ******

BEN SCHRECKINGER in Alexandria, Virginia, “White Nationalists Try on an Unfamiliar Role: Police Victims”: “Organizers of Saturday’s deadly white nationalist rally say they are planning to return to Charlottesville for a future rally and to file lawsuits against city and state authorities for allegedly failing to protect their gathering. But first, they must cope with a psychic shock: feeling betrayed by government authorities they believed would always protect them. Before this weekend’s events, the alt-right had been a bastion of pro-police sentiment — especially when it came to police shootings of unarmed black victims and clashes with the Black Lives Matter movement. Now, the alt-right’s leaders are grappling with the realities of being identifiable members of an unpopular minority group in public. …

“[W]hite nationalist leader Richard Spencer at a small news conference inside his home here on Monday afternoon … repeatedly dodged questions about whether his weekend experience has made him more sympathetic to the Black Lives Matter movement and members of minority groups who have claimed unfair treatment at the hands of police. … Spencer said he was unimpressed by President Donald Trump’s Monday statement condemning Nazis and the KKK, calling it ‘nonsense’ and ‘silliness.’ He said he did not believe Trump — who explicitly condemned white supremacy only after days of criticism for his failure to do so — was making the statement sincerely and said he does not believe the president had condemned his movement, pointing out that he did not use the term ‘white nationalists.’” http://politi.co/2uF00xE

— WAPO: “Records show Va. suspect’s mom twice called 911 on son, paint a portrait of a violent young teen”: http://wapo.st/2wLp3wc

–“Uber Bans Racists, Too,” by BuzzFeed’s Caroline O’Donovan: “Uber permanently banned white supremacist James Allsup from its ride-hail platform on Saturday after an Uber driver in Washington, D.C. kicked him and alt-right leader Tim Gionet, better known as Baked Alaska on Twitter, out of their ride for allegedly making racist remarks. … Before the rallies, Airbnb decided to ban known white supremacists from its site, prohibiting some — including the well-known neo-Nazi Richard Spencer — from booking a place to stay at Charlottesville via the platform.” http://bzfd.it/2uY0xpB

NEXT UP — “Deadly rally accelerates removal of Confederate statues,” by AP’s Jesse J. Holland: “In Gainesville, Florida, workers hired by the Daughters of the Confederacy chipped away at a Confederate soldier’s statue, loaded it quietly on a truck and drove away with little fanfare. In Baltimore, Mayor Catherine Pugh said she’s ready to tear down all of her city’s Confederate statues, and the city council voted to have them destroyed. San Antonio lawmakers are looking ahead to removing a statue that many people wrongly assumed represented a famed Texas leader who died at the Alamo.

“The deadly white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, is fueling another re-evaluation of Confederate statues in cities across the nation, accelerating their removal in much the same way that a 2015 mass shooting by a white supremacist renewed pressure to take down the Confederate flag from public property.” http://bit.ly/2uEmy1E

CRISIS AVERTED … FOR NOW — “North Korean ruler stands down on threat to Guam,” by L.A. Times’ W.J. Hennigan and Jonathan Kaiman: “North Korea’s autocratic ruler has decided not to launch missiles toward Guam, Pyongyang’s state media reported Tuesday, easing the immediate threat of an attack on the U.S. territory in the western Pacific.

“The North Korean statement said Kim Jong Un could change his mind ‘if the Yankees persist in their extremely dangerous reckless actions,’ in which case the country’s artillerymen would ‘wring the windpipes of the Yankees and point daggers at their necks.’ The announcement appeared shortly after Defense Secretary James N. Mattis warned that an attack could quickly escalate to war, although it’s unclear if the developments were linked. ‘If they fire at the United States it could escalate into war very quickly,’ Mattis told reporters at the Pentagon. ‘That’s called war, if they shoot at us … You don’t shoot at people in this world unless you want to bear the consequences.’” http://lat.ms/2i3lbnk

FOR YOUR RADAR –– “Iran could quit nuclear deal in ‘hours’ if new U.S. sanctions imposed: Rouhani,” by Reuters: “Iran could abandon its nuclear agreement with world powers ‘within hours’ if the United States imposes any more new sanctions, Iranian President Hassan Rouhani said on Tuesday. ‘If America wants to go back to the experience (of imposing sanctions), Iran would certainly return in a short time — not a week or a month but within hours — to conditions more advanced than before the start of negotiations,’ Rouhani told a session of parliament broadcast live on state television. Iran says new sanctions that the United States has imposed on it breach the agreement it reached in 2015 with the United States, Russia, China and three European powers in which it agreed to curb its nuclear work in return for the lifting of most sanctions.” http://reut.rs/2uX4Kdm

— REUTERS//MANILA: “Philippines says China has agreed no new expansion in South China Sea”: “China has assured the Philippines it will not occupy new features or territory in the South China Sea, under a new status quo brokered by Manila as both sides try to strengthen their relations, the Philippine defense minister said. The minister, Delfin Lorenzana, told a congressional hearing that the Philippines and China had reached a ‘modus vivendi’, or a way to get along, in the South China Sea that prohibits new occupation of islands. ‘There is status quo now that is happening in the South China Sea brokered by the secretary of Foreign Affairs,’ he told lawmakers late on Monday.” http://reut.rs/2wLxEis

SOME SERIOUS COIN — “Gates Makes Largest Donation Since 2000 With $4.6 Billion Pledge,” by Bloomberg’s Tom Metcalf: “Bill Gates made his largest gift since the turn of the century, giving away Microsoft shares that accounted for 5 percent of his fortune, the world’s biggest. The billionaire donated 64 million of the software maker’s shares valued at $4.6 billion on June 6, according to a Securities & Exchange Commission filing released Monday. While the recipient of the gift wasn’t specified, Gates has made the majority of his donations to the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, the charity he and his wife use to direct their philanthropic efforts.” https://bloom.bg/2i0hUoy

TRUMP’S TUESDAY — TRUMP is in New York. He will discuss infrastructure and sign an executive order “establishing discipline and accountability in the environmental review and permitting process for infrastructure projects.” He’ll also give a public statement. The infrastructure meeting will be in the Trump Tower residence and the statement will be made from the Trump Tower lobby.

A REMINDER — TONIGHT is the Alabama Senate primary. Seung Min Kim and Daniel Strauss tell us five things to watch http://politi.co/2fGxntm

PHOTO DU JOUR: A protester kicks a toppled statue of a Confederate soldier after it was pulled down in Durham, North Carolina on Aug. 14. | Casey Toth/The Herald-Sun via AP

OFF MESSAGE: ISAAC DOVERE talks to CECILE RICHARDS — “Cecile Richards, the president of the Planned Parenthood Federation of America and Planned Parenthood Action Fund, couldn’t be clearer on how wrong she thinks DCCC chair Ben Ray Luján is to say he won’t have a litmus test for candidates on abortion rights. ‘It’s a shocking sort of misunderstanding of actually where the country is … which is overwhelmingly supportive of abortion rights and also, who are the ground troops that kind of fuel the election of candidates,’ Richards told Isaac Dovere for the latest episode of POLITICO’s Off Message podcast. …

“‘On getting back in touch with Ivanka Trump: ‘I guess I could. I feel like talk is cheap, right? It’s actually what are the actions we’re seeing and what we’ve seen out of this administration from day one have had both barrels aimed at women.’” http://politi.co/2x07ec6 … Listen to the full podcast http://apple.co/2e2dLvm

COMING ATTRACTIONS — “Women’s March to reconvene around 2018 after Charlottesville,” by USA Today’s Heidi M. Przybyla: “For the first time since an estimated 2.6 million citizens marched on Washington and in cities across the country and globe a day after President Trump’s inauguration, organizers are asking their allies to regroup in order to focus on the congressional, gubernatorial and local elections taking place next year. The Women’s Convention, to be held in Detroit from Oct. 27-29, will bring together thousands of the women who organized sister marches across the country on Jan. 21 and have formed 5,000 local groups, or huddles, in 50 states to organize resistance actions over the past several months.” https://usat.ly/2i17OUz

— “Alarmed by Trump, Obama alums launch campaigns of their own,” by Elena Schneider: “Shaken by Trump’s victory and motivated by the potential undoing of what they worked to help Obama accomplish, roughly a dozen former White House and agency staffers have moved home to run for Congress. They’re leaning on advice and seeking endorsements and donations from a roster of ex-Obama White House and campaign hands.

“Some House races have even drawn multiple former Obama hands into the arena. In Texas, former Obama chief of staff Denis McDonough and ex-Treasury Secretary Jack Lew have lined up behind Ed Meier, a former State Department official, while ex-Housing and Urban Development Secretary Julián Castro is backing his former employee, Colin Allred, who was also an Obama White House intern and professional football player. Meier and Allred are competing in a crowded primary to take on Rep. Pete Sessions (R-Texas), who didn’t attract a single Democratic opponent last year.” http://politi.co/2uJCviN

****** A message from the Coalition for Affordable Prescription Drugs (CAPD): Pharmacy benefit managers negotiate the lowest net price for prescriptions on behalf of employers and other health care purchasers; however, the list price – the important starting point for those negotiations — continues to rise, at a rate of nearly ten percent in 2016 alone. Increased competition, faster reviews of generics and biosimilars and ending anti-competitive practices can also bring down the cost of medications for patients. Learn more at affordableprescriptiondrugs.org ******

2018 WATCH — “The GOP’s nastiest Senate primary: Todd Rokita and Luke Messer have been trying to outdo one another in Indiana politics since they graduated from the same small college decades ago,” by Maggie Severns and Kevin Robillard: “Their campaign didn’t officially get underway until last week, but Messer, 48, has already accused Rokita of attacking his wife and ‘spreading lies’ about his record. Rokita, 47, has questioned his rival’s mental health, calling Messer ‘unhinged’ and a ‘ticking time bomb.’ … [F]ew states are as ripe for a Republican challenge as Indiana — where Democratic Sen. Joe Donnelly is unusually vulnerable, running in a state Trump carried by 19 points — and no primary has gotten so nasty, so quickly.

“More than a dozen professional colleagues and personal acquaintances painted the hostility between Rokita and Messer as the product of three decades of pent-up rivalry. The two men … have climbed Indiana’s political ladder alongside each other for years and even attended the same small, all-male Wabash College together in the early 1990s — a school whose unofficial motto, a former dean noted with a touch of irony, is ‘competition without malice.’” http://politi.co/2fHi3N2 … Rokita’s new digital attack ad on Messer http://bit.ly/2vELXpf

BUSINESS BURST — “Warren Buffett Cashes Out on GE, Cashing In on Crisis Loan,” by WSJ’s Thomas Gryta and Maria Armental: “Warren Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway Inc. is getting out of one of America’s oldest companies: General Electric Co. The billionaire investor’s firm sold 10.6 million GE shares in the second quarter, a stake that would have been worth an estimated $315 million as of June 30, according to a regulatory filing. Berkshire received most of the shares in 2013 after the investor lent roughly $3 billion to GE in October 2008 during the depths of the financial crisis.

“In addition to the shares, Berkshire received hundreds of millions in dividends from GE over several years. All told, Mr. Buffett’s $3 billion crisis-era investment generated a profit of more than $1 billion. Berkshire’s decision to cash out its GE stake came in the same quarter that the conglomerate announced it was changing leaders, with Jeff Immelt stepping aside as chief executive after 16 years and handing over the job to one of his lieutenants, John Flannery.” http://on.wsj.com/2uJudI0

THE CAMPAIGN PROMISE — “Trump may not get the ‘win’ he seeks in NAFTA talks,” by Doug Palmer: “As a candidate, Donald Trump constantly called NAFTA the worst trade deal in history and promised ‘to get a better deal for our workers.’ Now that he is president, Trump is about to find out how hard it is to get an agreement that satisfies not only those workers who feel ‘shafted by NAFTA’ but also the powerful business interests currently benefiting from billions of dollars in cross-border sales. Top trade officials from the United States, Canada and Mexico sit down on Wednesday to begin thrashing over hundreds of issues as distinct as Canadian dairy barriers and digital trade issues affecting both countries.” http://politi.co/2w9u4Ba

TOP-ED — SEN. JAMES LANKFORD (R-Okla.) in WaPo, “The U.S. trade deficit is a good thing. Really”: “When a Canadian company decides to invest in a U.S.-based company, it increases our trade deficit. Similarly, when the Mexican government buys U.S. Treasury bonds (as most of the world does), the likelihood of an American trade deficit increases. Investments such as these are indicative of a strong economy. It should be an encouraging sign that we are by far the world’s largest receiver of foreign direct investment. Our trade deficit means, in part, that U.S. companies are considered to be a better investment than companies in other countries. More investment in American businesses means more jobs and higher wages for American workers.” http://wapo.st/2uJtRkw

MEDIAWATCH — “Opponents to Sinclair-Tribune merger rally in new 15-member coalition,” by John Hendel: “The Coalition to Save Local Media includes right-leaning programmers, tech industry interests, telecom trade groups and public interest advocates. … Such a concerted effort from a wide range of voices puts additional pressure on the FCC and Justice Department as they weigh the merger’s prospects. It also creates a tough spot for Republican lawmakers, who so far have preferred to quietly assess the merger without summoning witnesses for hearings despite calls from some Democrats to do so. Amid all this noise, no proponents for the Sinclair-Tribune deal have stepped up to provide any countervailing view.” More from Pros http://politico.pro/2uFxcoR

— THE NEW YORKER has announced the line-up to its Oct. 6 one-day conference called TechFest; its speakers include Michael Lynton, Gina McCarthy, Jaron Lanier, and Garry Kasparov. http://bit.ly/2uEiUVw

PLAYBOOK SCOOPLET — MCCLATCHY has hired Emma Dumain to be Washington correspondent for its South Carolina papers. She most recently was D.C. correspondent for the Post and Courier of Charleston.

DANA BASH will get GW’s 2017 Distinguished Alumni Achievement Award at an Oct. 19 ceremony.

TRANSITIONS — NOBUKO SASAE will chair the Eleanor Roosevelt Dialogue, a forum to educate spouses of ambassadors, cabinet secretaries, Supreme Court justices, White House aides and others on issues of the day. Sasae, wife of Japanese Ambassador Kenichiro Sasae, takes over from Kathleen Biden, who led the group for the past two years.

BIRTHDAY OF THE DAY: Elise Labott, CNN global affairs correspondent. How she’s celebrating: “I usually take a wild trip with my friend Linda Roth, whose birthday is the day before mine. A few years ago we parasailed off the mountains of Medellin, Colombia and another year we went to the Croatian coast. She’s on a work trip this year so I’m having a low key happy hour with friends.” Read her Playbook Plus Q&A: http://politi.co/2vzH5mV

BIRTHDAYS: Karen Finney … Vernon Jordan is 82 … Melinda Gates is 53 … Justice Stephen Breyer is 79 … Rep. Maxine Waters (D-Calif.) is 79 … Rep. Robert Pittenger (R-N.C.) is 69 … Linda Ellerbee is 72 … Dave Price … Devin O’Malley is 3-0 … McClatchy’s Kevin Hall, a Pulitzer Prize winner, is 55 (hat tip: Kristin Roberts) … Matt Pinnell … Peggy Binzel, principal at the Podesta Group … Democratic pollster Diane Feldman (h/ts Jon Haber) … Jarrett Lewis, executive director of the Health Management Academy/the Academy Advisors, Romney 2012 alum, and the pride of Charlotte Latin (h/t Jim Hobart) … Jon Black … NBC News Capitol Hill reporter Leigh Ann Caldwell, celebrating at the beach in Delaware with her family (h/t Alex Moe) … Patrick Gleason, state affairs director at Americans for Tax Reform … Kathryn Potter … Annie Minkler …

… Rachel Haot, managing director at 1776 (h/ts Peter Cherukuri and Ben Chang) … Richard Hudock of CNN PR … Billy Pitts … Sarah Bell … Eric Tanenblatt, Dentons U.S. Public Policy chair, is 51 … Bart Reising is 31 … GBA Strategies intern Ben Weinberg is 22 (h/t Mollie Leavitt) … Brett Doyle, Senate RPC policy analyst (h/t wife Emma King Doyle) … EPA’s John Konkus … Mariam Khan, an ABC News digital journalist covering Capitol Hill (h/ts Ryan Struyk and Margaret Chadbourne) … Jesse McKinley, NYT Albany bureau chief is 47 … former Rep. Judy Biggert (R-Ill.) is 8-0 … Larry Cohen … Meg Joseph … Christopher Loring … Maral Karaccusian … Zahava Urecki… Emily Smith … Tom Murphy … Diane Feldman … Susanne Salkind (h/ts Teresa Vilmain) … Todd Bernstein … KJ Fallon … Will Dizard … Alison Rose Levy … Frank Sicoli is 39 … Desiree Wineland … Derek Kan, general manager at Lyft … Miranda Barrett … Britain’s Princess Anne is 67 … Ben Affleck is 45 … Joe Jonas is 28 … Jennifer Lawrence is 27 (h/ts AP)

****** A message from the Coalition for Affordable Prescription Drugs (CAPD): The high prices that drug makers set for prescription drugs can put financial strain on patients, employers, unions and others who provide health care coverage to more than 50 percent of Americans. Pharmacy benefit managers negotiate the lowest net price for prescriptions on behalf of employers, unions and government programs. But, as list prices – the starting point for those negotiations — continue their nearly double-digit increases, the effects ripple throughout the system. The key to ensuring greater access and affordability lies in fostering greater competition. Facilitating faster reviews of generics and biosimilars, identifying off-patent drugs with little or no generic competition, and ending anti-competitive practices that keep safe, effective alternatives out of the market are also key to abating rising drug costs for patients. Learn more at affordableprescriptiondrugs.org ******

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tinymixtapes · 7 years

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Feature: 2017: Second Quarter Favorites

Half of the year is over, and we have done absolutely nothing with our lives. Very pathetic. The good news is that we use our ears to listen to music, so to celebrate, the TMT staff has once again come together to share our favorite releases of the last three months (give or take), compiled in the best format known to humankind. This time around, we were outside the club (Jlin), in the Devil’s book (Sarah Shook & The Disarmers), and on Google Hangouts (Kendrick Lamar), broadcasting live using algorithm-free YouTube (Future City Love Stories). There was glittery slime (cupcakKe), naturalistic abstractions (Lieven Martens), and condensed chunks of cut-open human organs (Pharmakon), with a range that went from pop (Lorde), narkpop (GAS), and contorted pop (Laurel Halo) to rock-star rappers (Playboi Carti), airbrushed nightcrawlers (99jakes), and mutilated tunes on the DAW floor (Khaki Blazer). Check the full list below, and as always, please take note of the shortlist, as these particular releases either weren’t heard enough yet to make the list or just fell short for various reasons. All worth a listen. Shortlist: The Caretaker’s Everywhere at the end of time: Stage 2, Upgrayedd Smurphy’s HYPNOSYS, Actress’s AZD, Slowdive’s Slowdive, $3.33’s DRAFT, Perfume Genius’s No Shape, Peace Forever Eternal’s Nextcentury, Cloud Rat & Moloch’s split, Babyfather’s Cypher, Russian Tsarlag’s Gel Stations Past, Ducktails’s Daffy Duck In Hollywood, Jefre Cantu-Ledesma’s On The Echoing Green, Elysia Crampton’s Spots y Escupitajo, RITCHRD’s GREATEST HITS, and Tara Jane O’Neil’s self-titled album. --- Laurel Halo Dust [Hyperdub] Dust’s single “Jelly” was a surprising teaser for fans of Laurel Halo, soberly announcing her return to vocal music with a big result. As the song resembles and contorts pop product, it’s vocoder — emblematic of 2012’s viscous and spacey Quarantine — serves the punctuated delivery of a funky Parliament-esque hook (“You don’t meet my standards for a friend…”), while collaborators Klein and Lafawndah deliver the remainder. The far-reaching influences found on “Jelly” came to be representative of Dust at large, an album that moves through its vibrant landscape of sounds and grooves in a way new to the artist behind it. “Moontalk” delivers a second blast of lopsided feel-good pop, Sam Hilmer’s saxophone rips on “Arschkriecher,” Michael Salu takes the stage on “Who Won?,” and the album ultimately subsides, taking space to explore old territory with the help of composer Eli Keszler. Dust is an exciting and adventurous release that couldn’t be more matter-of-fact. –Ben Levinson --- Playboi Carti Playboi Carti [Interscope] “I’m a rockstar” asserts Lil Uzi Vert in the intro to “wokeuplikethis,” the collaborative lead single off of Playboi Carti’s self-titled debut. Given the Atlanta native’s penchant for distorted, guitar-like synths and driving rhythms that often exceed 160 BPM, it wouldn’t be a stretch for us to extend the title to Carti, too. While “wokeuplikethis” is undeniably a track indebted to early rock & roll’s chugging groove — although one could even deem it pop-punk, taking its sparkly lead melodies and raspy, slacker vocals into consideration — Playboi Carti is evidence that its creator is something even greater. He’s sedimentary rock, a walking pastiche, the zeitgeist. He culls the best of 2016’s SoundCloud wave — its gravelly basslines, its chiming riffs — and blends it with well-curated bits of other subcultural ephemera. The transcendent beatswitch midway through “Location” integrates Macintosh Plus’s sloppily chopped aesthetic. “New Choppa,” featuring A$AP Rocky, delves into its own dark interpretation of chiptune. “Lame Niggaz” feels like a barebones deconstruction of PC Music’s unbridled optimism. Cash Carti’s everything that’s cool. He’s everything that’s ever been cool. –Jude Noel --- GAS Narkopop [Kompakt] Whatever happened to program music? We tend to think of the entire instrumental-pop umbrella, typically cast over both ambient and techno, as purely abstract. Wolfgang Voigt’s marriage of the two styles as GAS has especially been painted as a project concerning itself with the musical absolute. And yet, when you put your ear to the impenetrably thick walls built around Narkopop’s heartbeat-like low-end and contemplate the album’s wandering melodies and swift, unpredictably-resolving chord progressions, it’s hard to shake the feeling that there’s a story there. Not just the depiction of emotions or a mood, not just the aural rendering of “a nightclub in a forest,” but a plot, a character, and a conversation (or their multitude). Is it the movement of people through the European continent in its war-ridden past (or equally foreboding present)? Or is it more of a personal strife, the tale of a human struggling and succeeding, to various degrees, at finding solace? He would likely respond that there is none, but my question stands: What’s the story, Wolfgang? –Patryk Mrozek Narkopop by GASNarkopop by GAS --- Khaki Blazer Didn’t Have to Cut [Hausu Mountain] Pat Modugno when donning his Khaki Blazer is most known for his juddering, hypercaffeinated cut-ups and off-the-grid percussive discursions (scope the contemporaneous Speed Rack Willy), but on Didn’t Have to Cut, he seems to be taking our boy Gotye’s words to heart. Not only do we choose when and where to cut, but we could also decide not to do it at all. Modugno, thinking of all those tunes left mutilated on the DAW floor, must’ve had a change of heart, a turn away from the neo-dadaist massacres he seemed to so gleefully perpetuate. He still collages with the best of ‘em, but Didn’t Have to Cut gives each sound a little more room, a little more time to express itself. From the complete wheezer of “Comfortably Grey” to the slow-tone torture of “Saturn Rings” to the sheer psychic insinuation of “Hold Your Breath and Count,” everyone swarms and squiggles and sighs and squawks a little more thoughtfully. Still, the crowning achievement is the strung-out electric allolalia of “Death Bedhead,” featuring some famous singer I used to know. Didn’t Have to Cut is perhaps the most truly strange thing of 2017 so far, a melted, lopsided chimera roaring, bleating, and hissing its way into our hearts. –Cynocephalus Didn't Have To Cut by Khaki BlazerDidn't Have To Cut by Khaki Blazer --- Félicia Atkinson Hand In Hand [Shelter Press] Hand in hand, I’m watching the places where fingers tip into edges where I end. The fingernail barriers blood vessel and lymph and nerve from the wilderness. The fingernail keeps the self-stuff safe. Keratogenous upkeep is self-atomizing with clipper and file, a breaking for building to remind us that split bone is trauma but broken nail is health. All sounds are found in the breaking. All found breaks are Hand in Hand, the discarded sounds we shed to be. Voice is a buzz a bass a kiss a house a dance a poem. It sounds in slivers, these uncovered discards, this mode of droned bone jutting into distal digits. Dis-uncovery is wiping it away while rubbing it in. It’s in us. Félicia splints (our) nervous material like steel kissing keratin. Slip pinches hangnails. Bones break flesh, in-grown you. Infections are plausible. Fungi whine in crevices. In clips. Is imperfect. She skitters. We whisper. Listen. I’m following you. Take care. –Frank Falisi Hand In Hand by Félicia AtkinsonHand In Hand by Félicia Atkinson [pagebreak] Ryuichi Sakamoto async [Milan] When Ryuichi Sakamoto was diagnosed with throat cancer, no one knew how long he had to live. After around 40 years with Yellow Magic Orchestra — as well as many years as a solo composer — Sakamoto didn’t know if it’d be possible to ever make music again. “My faith in ‘health�� was crushed… I could have lost my voice, so I feel very lucky that I didn’t,” he shared with The New York Times. But with time, the 65-year-old composer slowly returned to the piano to give us async, 14 tracks of sobering reflection that meditate on the underlying grief at the heart of his health. Pooling influence from Andrei Tarkovsky and the piano meditations of Claude Debussy, async is about as uncomfortably intimate as instrumental music can be. Tracks like “walker” and “disintegration” feel of a certain post-Cagean tradition yet bask in a crushing fragility that borrows more from the emotive terrain of film composition than it does from art world experimentalism. “Ff,” “stakra,” and “ZURE” offer warm synths with a harrowing sparseness, while “fullmoon” includes a quote from Paul Bowles, one that’s light, yet aching in their harrowing detail. For all of its baggage in personal narrative, async continues much of what makes Sakamoto’s film work breathtaking with a handful of rich pieces at the height of the emotional spectrum. –Rob Arcand --- Jlin Black Origami [Planet Mu] The outward expansion of footwork has yielded many meta-narratives, all inextricably bound by a sense of propulsive energy — be it a frantic release schedule, marked by a saturation of physical releases and SoundCloud drops, or the will to stretch and mutate the methodological lexicon for the circle beyond. Never created, never destroyed; Jlin taps into the latter impulse once again with Black Origami, a renegotiation of the truncated vision of footwork posited by Dark Energy. Between percussive modes via India and Africa, and the divergent compositional methods of Basinski, Herndon, and Fawkes, these dark energies are (as the title suggests) continuously folded and refolded, enveloped and developed, resulting in one of the densest and most challenging sets of footwork yet. Wordless coos (“Enigma,” “Calcination”) pierce the void; meanwhile, “1%” quite literally dials up the madness, interjecting samples amongst characteristically throttling drum hits and transmuting bass. Make no mistake, Jlin is operating way outside the club here. Questions of identity and psychogeography aside, the pull of Black Origami lies in the physicality of its Delphic complexity — a kind of corporeal braindance — so consider it a sizable gauntlet to body music hereafter. Oh, and good luck dancing to the next one. –Soe Jherwood Black Origami by JlinBlack Origami by Jlin --- Future City Love Stories Future City Love Stories [BLCR Laboratories] The BLCR Laboratories debut of Future City Love Stories (a.k.a. Dream Catalogue CEO, a.k.a. HKE, a.k.a. [every last a.k.a. imaginable]) finds spectacular foundations for the self-titled release’s existence on the audible milieu of atmosphere. There is no “real” rhythm or reason unfolding within the chapters of Future City Love Stories, just architectural patterns. Existence as lingering footsteps in the background. Haunting echoes vibrating throughout empty alleys and alcoves. The sound of rain down the road turns out to be televisions left on static in a storefront window. Explanations withdrawn with, “Neverminds.” A voice intentionally lost in translation. Blurring lights that even up close hum a glow of aura. Dumpster fires. Pockets of wafting smells entangle the senses. Enough narrative imagination in ethereal splendor for listeners to create their very own Future City Love Stories. Come out and play forever. –C Monster Future City Love Stories by Future City Love StoriesFuture City Love Stories by Future City Love Stories --- Sarah Shook & The Disarmers Sidelong [Bloodshot] “What kind of music do you usually have here?” Country AND western, honky AND tonk, punk AND queer… wait, what? Sarah Shook plays smoky raw alt-country that contrasts a subtle defiance of gender stereotypes with a proud and triumphant embodiment of another trope, the country legend on a path to hell paved with bad intentions and slippery with moonshine. Country may be the music of pain, but if you need something to rile you up, the driving outlaw rhythms here’ll get the job done too. Shook’s voice is an extraordinary instrument — rough-edged and velvety by turn, with a rattling quiver and a broken lilt that’ll break your heart right along with it. Sidelong inscribes her name, alongside Lydia Loveless and Hank Williams III, in the Devil’s book. –Rowan Savage Sidelong by Sarah Shook & the DisarmersSidelong by Sarah Shook & the Disarmers --- Arca Arca [XL] Electronic music has an odd relationship with vocals. They’re polarized along the spectrum of directness, either fully obscured or so loaded with emotional cues as to seem heavy-handed. The notion of the electronic singer-songwriter is nearly extinct, word to James Blake. Arca found a way to bridge that gap, speaking both through his production and his own voice, and transmitting gripping affect on two levels: the pure sound of his voice, a universal language, and the massive (but nuanced) emotional conveyance of the lyrics themselves, sung in his native Spanish. Whether you speak the language or not, Arca seizes control, making himself clearer to the listener than ever before. –Corrigan B --- Lieven Martens Gardens, Fire and Wine (A Compilation) [Edições CN] Quietly, he picks out postcards under a bright moon. The street murmurs, the water laps. Slowly, softly, a certain psychedelia seeps in, of the visitor, in transit, appearing, displacement. And the words come, briefly. In summary. To try to speak to transitory and totalizing experiences. Swaths of moments, and to honor them, particularly. Moods, tones, warped glimpses. A gesture. Plus all that’s ungraspable, well-traveled. I picked this one out just for you. Wish you were here. Signed Lieven Martens, who equates the seven soundscapes on Gardens, Fire and Wine (A Compilation) with a set of seven postcards. They go around the world; it’s a miracle. Delivery, like a whisper. Words laid bare for you, again, actually, as many of these tracks were previously released on 7-inches and cassettes between 2012-15. Compiled, they span from documents of live performances to naturalistic abstractions. But, again, in the wonderful words of Martens, they’re not quite that. More, “a series of images, not reissues yet self-captured.” Words touched heart. Simply. What did he write? He wrote of all sorts of good soil. Thank the glaciers, the volcanoes. –Cookcook Gardens, Fire and Wine (A Compilation) by Lieven MartensGardens, Fire and Wine (A Compilation) by Lieven Martens [pagebreak] cupcakKe Queen Elizabitch [Self-Released] Saying that this [title with a strong female lead] is anything like MC Lyte or Lil Kim would be as lazy and as sexist as it is glaringly false. Elizabeth Harris (nope, not this one) is a motherfucking kraken on Queen Elizabitch, spitting glittery slime from her furry pink tentacles until you submit. Straight up, Queen Elizabitch is filthy as fuck, hilarious as Hell, and hard as a dick while she’s rapping. Put squarely, this shit is BOLD, and it’s not lost on us that being a female MC in this context requires an impossible balance between class and crass. I can’t deny that cupcakKe’s notorious guttermouth is what pulled me in, but in all honesty, what has kept me coming back is her unmatched consistency in a game dominated by warbling cocks. This shit slays on a Blueprint level. That it would probably still slay on a Kingdom Come level is a reflection of her unsolicited ferocity. However we heard it, I’m glad we listened. –Jackson Scott --- Chino Amobi PARADISO [UNO NYC/NON] Tiny Mix Tapes has been covering Chino Amobi since at least 2012, when he was known as Diamond Black Hearted Boy. As it turns out, 2012 also was the year yours truly started writing for TMT — and my last name really is Diamond, by the way; it’s not a moniker like C Monster. Fun fact: C got me this gig. He was listening to Chino back when Chino was Diamond Black Hearted Boy. I faintly remember him telling me about Diamond Black Hearted Boy, and my reply being something like,”’Diamond Hard Blue Apples of the Moon?’ Dope song, bro.” He definitely told me about Chino Amobi later too, but I just thought he was talking about the guy from The Deftones. The point is, not all of us TMTers are in-the-know experimental music scholars with master’s degrees, and some of us who are are secretly borderline illiterate, but most all of us thoroughly enjoy Chino Amobi’s PARADISO and its arcane references, sudden outbursts, and the way those elements play off of one another, like close friends with similar interests and backgrounds but little else in common. Cages this weekend? –Samuel Diamond PARADISO by Chino AmobiPARADISO by Chino Amobi --- Richard Dawson Peasant [Weird World] The curtain rises; before us, a paddock of aged grass, overcast with swelling clouds, while somewhere nearby, there lays a whimpering collie “under a whining bush… seized by a fit.” A house sits in the corner of the enclosure, steam escaping through the windows — inside, there keeps “a cauldron of pummeled gall-nuts afloat in urine/ add river-water thrice-boiled with a bloodstone.” On the wall, a painting has begun to drip from the humidity, its seaside pastoral molting into something almost unrecognizable, as if suddenly one can see “in the face of the cliff/ a ghastly doorway.” Beyond the doorway lies a kingdom of gold, a place where “a child can be bought for a year’s worth of grain,” and “fortune wags its tongue along the walkways of the bathhouse.” Innocents lay lifeless on the street corner, and as the music of war begins to stir once again, somewhere far away, “the rolling fields grow dark as the grave/ and I am fleeing for my life.” –SZG --- Pharmakon Contact [Sacred Bones] Shortly before the release of Contact, Pharmakon played a memorial show for those who lost their lives in the Oakland Ghost Ship fire. The show was also a fundraiser for the Trans Assistance Project in honor of Feral Pines, a transwoman who was among those who died. I didn’t know Feral personally, but many of the people I went to the show with did. Pharmakon played a short set, a single song off Contact. A great chunk of the audience cried. Contact is an industrial-noise record, a condensed chunk of materialized, cut-open human organs, a manifestation of pain and fury and sadness. Terribly abrasive, yes, but it reminds us that such horror-totems are also a locus for contact. There’s a great deal of space in this record, gaps between aural saturation, pockets to curl up and gather and weep in between sheets of oblivion. We can gather around a shared wound. We can hold hands. Contact is an assault and an opening-up. –Jeffrey Dunn Rovinelli Contact by PharmakonContact by Pharmakon --- 99jakes Birthday Party (Not Our Birthday) [Self-Released] “You would cry too if it happened to you.” INT. MOTEL ROOM — NIGHT. SALEM and GFOTY moved into a vacancy together at the edge of town, a few miles past the last gas station but before you get to the cornfields. It always looks red in their room, because they keep a neon sign glowing all through the clear-blue night. We’re throwing a birthday party for their overdue baby, and we just had to book 99jakes, the holy sacrilegious DJ broadcasting live from the forest using algorithm-free YouTube. The party is for jakes only, sorry, but you’re a jake. You might’ve RSVPd “Going” on Facebook high as fuck at 2:35 AM, but you were not ready for this party. Airbrushed nightcrawlers are scurrying on the walls, moms and ravers are talking Yu-Gi-Oh!, and one of the jakes keeps trying to start a food fight with this cardboard cutout of Magneto. Another jake is genuinely sobbing about their weekly horoscope. It’s a new moon and the party is over, but after the afterparty, we’re playing 7th Guest. For keeps. Watch it, dude. –Pat Beane --- Aaron Dilloway The Gag File [Dais] Cigarette butts litter the floor. Empty beer bottles are strewn across the room. The walls in the house are that dark-brown, stained-wood paneling of which the 70s were so fond. The carpet might as well be orange if it actually isn’t. Remnants of paraphernalia are on a glass-top table in front of a couch. There’s a stale smell in the air. A low thud lopes along in the background. You can vaguely make out that music is playing, but you don’t know what it is… there’s mostly muddy bass frequencies. Random conversations are taking place in this room, but you’re not really a part of any of them. You’re just observing. Down a hallway and through a bedroom door is a familiar smile. A kind of vaguely eerie, expressionless smile that you pull a string to animate. While pulling the string, a busted speaker inside of it creaks to life, announcing “kill away” with a cackle. You ghost this scene immediately. –Joe Davenport The Gag File by Aaron DillowayThe Gag File by Aaron Dilloway [pagebreak] Chief Keef Thot Breaker [Glo Gang] When I reviewed Two Zero One Seven in January, I felt obligated to excavate a rough sketch of Chief Keef’s disperse, ephemeral, and notoriously leaky catalogue, ending with the question of whether Thot Breaker (which had already been suspended in the limbo of hypothetical Keef releases since 2015) would ever come out. So in a surprise befitting Sosa’s winking demeanor, it makes a kind of cosmic sense that Thot Breaker would not only be released, but also that it would be an actual album, delicately mastered and thoughtfully sequenced, showcasing the evolution of Keith Cozart’s blossoming vision as a full-throated producer of singular and ambitious pop music. And the music is what shines: falsetto, autotune harmonies hang in the nausea of drum-barren and baroque lean-scapes, where the absurd poignancy of Keef’s lyricism glimmers, finally equilibrated to the left-field intuitions of his own production style (aided here by resident team Young Chop and CBMix, as well as a lone Mike WiLL Made-It spot). Standouts like “Alone (Intro),” the drumless ballad “Slow Dance,” stadium-dubstep barnstormer “Whoa,” and the inevitable lean-sipping ode “Drank Head” are legitimate ruptures in the Keef canon and, if we are to take the artist at face value (which we should), aesthetics more generally — they only require the audience to unsee a false history, and to accept the psychedelic, finessed vulnerability being offered on Thot Breaker. –Nick Henderson --- Nkisi Kill [MW] The only voice you hear on Kill bellows at the beginning of “Can You See Me,” asking with force, “Can you hear me? Do you know who I am? Can you see me? I live in the dark.” Brief and deliberate, the first official record by Nkisi, a co-founder of the explosively influential NON collective, somehow gets right up in its listener’s face while retaining its basic anonymity. The title track opens the record in a rolling, percussive euphoria, giving way to a kind of double-bridge in which manic beeping morphs into a dramatic trance arp. There are more shades of trance in the emotional denouement of “Parched Lips,” while both “Can You See Me” and “MWANA” rely on their nervous, nonlinear ascent toward climax. These are unique, collage-like tracks that still fit well within the massive, oddly shaped space Nkisi and associates have carved for themselves, blending a familiarly frenetic swing of snares into conversation with some evocative and incidental techniques of composition. Living in the dark, Kill offers a few scattered rays of light. –Will Neibergall --- Lorde Melodrama [Republic] Lorde is one of those ultimate artists who has achieved both top-level mainstream cred and top-level indie cred. You really can’t dislike her from any angle or you risk being seen as uncool, a fate truly worse than death. This is because, in contrast to most other pop today (most of which is pure garbage), her music is emotionally intuitive and refreshingly honest, with interesting insights into her social life and her love life. The production is airy, crisp, and occasionally sparse, giving the feeling that each sound and gesture was thoroughly considered and chosen for good reasons. These are true reflections of a partier, singing about the feelings that drive her to party and the feelings she’s left with when the party ends. That’s where Lorde transcends most pop music today: where most music regresses into trite politics or benign observations about life, her music is fairly particular and contains powerful ruminations that all people can relate to, because partying rules. Life is about the balance of partying and being sad. --- Ace Mo Black Populous [Bootleg Tapes] In any true Catholic family, there are over four aunts or uncles and subsequently dozens of first and second cousins who get placed in three categories: often, sometimes, and who? The “oftens” are there every holiday whose birthdays you’re dragged to; the “sometimes” are out-of-state cousins who you see enough to consistently dislike and/or smoke weed with in the alleyway; and the “whos?” are the reason why you address everyone as “bud” or “friend.” Ace Mo and the entirety of Bootleg Tapes have quickly risen from a “who?” to the highest ground of “often”: the sitcom best-friend cousin, transcending the ranks into a must-see, need-to-chill-with cousin. Can there be a brightest-star, favorite cousin within Bootleg Tapes? We refuse to answer that. But damn: as of this writing, he is the face off/banner kid of their Bandcamp, and Black Populous is bringing in a whole new appreciation for the label. So, what we’re saying is, Ace Mo, I have the dro, and we’re eating heavy always; see you at the next major holiday, and an AFX-style-remix-fanboy thanks to you. –Monet Maker Black Populous by AceMoBlack Populous by AceMo --- Medslaus Poorboy Self-Released If the most boring drums a rap producer can program go boom boom bap boom boom boom bap, then the second most boring drums a rap producer can program go ticka ticka ticka ticka ticka ticka ticka ticka ticka and the third most boring go ticka ticka boom bap ticka ticka ticka ticka bap, and so on. If I’m oversimplifying, I apologize — the point is: Slauson Malone doesn’t make beats you’ve heard before, and on the occasion that he employs a familiar sample, like on “Follies (P.M.W.),” the sumbitch gets turned out. Melodics become riddims and vice versa such that no two tracks ever sound the same. As for Slauson’s vocal counterpart, the first time I heard Medhane, I thought he was alright but steadily overshadowed by his producer. Post-Poorboy, I’m starting to think that’d be like saying Guru was overshadowed by Premier. And this is after just their second project together!? If these kids get any better, you’re all going to be out of a job. Chief Keef’s going to need to take a civil service exam or some shit. Rappaz rn dainja and beats are obsolete. Go ahead with that. –Samuel Diamond --- Kendrick Lamar DAMN. [Top Dawg] Okay, so you’re not AIM buddies with Kendrick Lamar, but… doesn’t it feel like you kinda could be? The most over-the-top thing about DAMN. wasn’t that it sounded like the work of some untouchable megastar off on his own trip; it was the feeling that an easygoing, all-around “nice dude” who lives down the hall from you cobbled this shit together on his PC in the lonely-but-spacious hours between night shifts and day jobs. The shots fired on DAMN. didn’t feel so much “shockingly revolutionary” as they did “shockingly relatable.” It pretty much felt like Lamar was sending you a MediaFire link containing the mundane, silly, scared, honest fruits of a secret-hobby on Google Hangouts and then insecurely asking you what you thought of it right on the spot. Then, he anxiously watched the screen as you typed back your near-speechless, one-word response: “DAMN.” –Dan Smart http://j.mp/2tn2dfT

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